Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost
by control of chaos
Summary: The NCIS team meets a teenager with amnesia who believes he may have killed a marine, but is everything as it seems?
1. Chapter 1

My first attempt at an AR/NCIS crossover, and I hope you guys like it. For once, I have no idea how long this will be, but it should be longer than my previous fanfics. R&R! ~ SamayouTamashi

* * *

Timothy McGee, Anthony Dinozzo and Ziva David were rudely awoken in their homes to the sounds of their phones ringing. When they picked up, it was Leroy Jethro Gibbs calling them to work at _three_ in the morning.

McGee scrambled to his feet, closing his cell and sliding it into the bag by his bed. He flung on some clothes, hoping they matched, shut off the laptop that had been left running during the night, and made it out the door in a record five minutes. When Gibbs calls, you drop everything without asking for an explanation.

Dinozzo was a bit slower to answer the call. He flicked his phone shut and laid back against his pillows grumbling, "Five more minutes." An hour later, Tony was yawning as he searched for his keys on the tabletop by his head.

Ziva was waiting for them when the two stumbled tiredly in, looking as if she had been awake the whole time. Three coffees were on the desk in front of her. Already assuming that 'Ninja David' had teleported to the office before the call had even come in, they gratefully accepted the caffeine. "Where's the boss?" Tony asked. "Don't tell me he played an April Fool's joke on us."

From out of nowhere, the agent felt the Gibbs-slap take him by surprise—as it always did—as Gibbs entered the area. "It's November, Tony."

"I knew that, boss," he winced, feeling the brain cells in his head dying slow painful deaths one by one.

"Suit up. We have a dead marine waiting," Gibbs ignored Tony's well-deserved pain. "McGee, I need you to pick up Ducky. His brakes have broken down and he's going to need a ride."

* * *

"Do you remember what you were doing here, son?" an older officer from the local police department was asking a teenager sitting on the curb as the trio walked up to the crime scene. The boy was shaking his head, a confused expression on his face. Ziva stood over the officer's shoulder. "A witness?" she asked.

The officer turned to look at her and shrugged. "There were shots reported in the area and when we found him," he pointed at the body sprawled further back in the trees, "there was this boy standing over him. He says that he has no idea why he came here, how he got here, or even where he is in the first place."

Taking in the blood-splatter covering the side of the teenager's face and torso, Gibbs sat down next to him. "Do you know your name?"

With a frown, the boy whispered, "I…I can't remember anything, but…it might have started with an 'a' or something. I wish I could help you," he added with a dismal droop of the shoulders.

"We'll help you along, don't worry." Gibbs patted his shoulders. "Do you have a phone or something on you that might have an address or number for your parents?"

He patted his pockets and peeked inside the pockets of his jacket, but shook his head again. "Nothing. Wait…" From out of one pocket, he pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to Gibbs. "A plane ticket, I think."

"No less, it's a two-way ticket from London to D.C. This is a good lead, and I can have one of my agents see who was on this flight. It explains your accents, as well."

"Thanks." The boy looked down at his shoulders, apparently building up his courage as he stared back determinedly at the NCIS senior agent. "Until then, can I follow you on this case? I…I don't know why I was here, but I get the feeling that my past is connected to him," he said, gesturing at the corpse behind Ziva. "I think that…" The boy grimaced as he seemed to catch a glimpse of what he'd lost.

Gibbs urged him on, "What do you remember?"

"I think that I might have killed him."

* * *

A/N: Sorry about the cliff-hanger, but I'm infamous for them. The reason it's so short is because this is a prologue and teaser…and because the freezing rain and wind might knock the power off again.

Cookies (not really) for anyone who can correctly guess where the title comes from! ^_^


	2. Chapter 2

Part two and the true beginning of _Those Who Wander_. ~ SamayouTamashi

* * *

The boy with no name sat in a chair by Gibbs' desk. Instead of spinning idly in half-circles, asking pointless questions or complaining about the cold, he was silently observing everything and everyone. This was what Ziva noticed at six in the morning. Despite the incredibly early hour and the dark circles beneath the teen's eyes, he had refrained from yawning or napping.

McGee, the smallest of the group, had given him a shirt and jeans to replace the blood-stained ones he had been wearing. They were a little big, but he didn't appear to mind in the least.

His hair was long, the former bangs now hanging in his eyes, as if he hadn't found the time to get it cut yet still had the time to wash it thoroughly.

Despite the unusual environment within the NCIS building, he wasn't nervous or fidgety. Other agents who sparked up conversations with him were surprised to find that he did not speak or think like any other teenagers they had met. He could carry on full debates with many of them over politics _and _win, making it appear that the boy had spent much of his time around people much older than him.

Yet Ziva still couldn't get over the most obvious spikes in his character.

Upon greeting all the agents at the crime scene, it had appeared as if he analyzed everyone before speaking to them. He easily smiled at both Dinozzo and McGee, meeting their questions with subtle moves to change the topic, but when Ziva moved to shake his hand, he met her eyes with a calculating gaze. Ignoring the outstretched hand, he gave a half-bow and said, "Shalom, Ms. David."

"How did you know my last name?" she angrily demanded.

The easy-going manner subsided into confusion once again. "I…I…your eyes were familiar, I think," he stuttered, backing away from her.

She wanted to ask him more questions, but Gibbs laid a calming hand on her shoulder. "Don't scare him more than he already is."

"I'm sorry. It's just-" she cut herself off. Frightening him off wouldn't answer any more of her questions.

This innocent teenager was not what he appeared, she concluded. Something in the way his eyes pierced to your soul and glinted with everything from sorrow to bloodlust wasn't natural. No teenager has eyes like that.

* * *

Gibbs had told McGee to drive the boy back to NCIS and get him a change of clothes and shower. He was in desperate need of both, by the looks of him. When all the work at the crime scene was finished, he would have Ducky take a look at him and assess how he could have gotten the memory loss.

For now, however, his crew-minus McGee-was currently working.

The dead man had been a marine by the name of Henry Rodriguez, judging by the dog tags around his neck. Ziva was reporting no signs of a struggle based on the appearance of the dirt around him. All that marked him as dead were the two bullet holes cleanly marked between his eyes. Tony was speaking with the local PD cops about the times of the reports that had come in. Comparing his results with Ducky's, it was evident that death had only come for this man about two hours ago.

As for the signs of the shooter, there were none. The sole footprints in the park were those left by Lieutenant Rodriguez and the boy with amnesia. Based on the evidence, the conclusion was fairly obvious. All of them knew, but none could believe that the teenager could possibly have done such a thing.

With the plane ticket in hand, Gibbs rounded up his crew and returned to NCIS.

They found McGee waiting outside the restrooms for the boy to change and wash off in the sink. The boy came out in clothes a little big on him with a guilty expression on his face as he walked over to Gibbs. "Did you find the weapon used to kill the guy?"

"No," he replied slowly. "Why?"

From his ankle, he pulled out a gun and handed it to Gibbs. "I found this holster around my ankle while I was changing, and the gun was still sort of warm." To the team's surprise, it didn't stop there. "I also found these." A holster from under his shirt held another gun, though it hadn't been fired recently. From the side of his leg were a long combat knife and a pair of throwing knives. "I think that was it."

Tony blinked before muttering, "The hell?"

Gibbs slapped him upside the head. "Language, Dinozzo," but he picked up the combat knife. "I know this make. Some of the SAS divisions in England carry these while they're in war zones in case they run out of ammunition."

Ziva took note of another one. "Those throwing knives are awarded to high-performing Mossad agents and aren't given lightly."

The boy was suddenly looked at in a different light. "Maybe he had a father working undercover, or something," McGee thought out loud.

He was left to sit on his own as Gibbs sent the rest of his agents to work on the case, giving them all assignments but leaving Ziva to make sure their witness didn't wander off. Ducky came in and out, taking the body down to autopsy and sending Palmer to Abby with the samples she was asking for. Despite the early hours that they all hated, a certain buzz of activity was making itself heard already. There was a sense of purpose in the agents' steps, the teenager noticed, even as they complained of all the work in front of them. Almost like...the memory faded as he frowned, trying to remember the person that had just come to mind however briefly.

Gibbs waved Ducky over as he came up from his examination room. "Duck, I need you to give this boy an exam if you wouldn't mind."

"Ahh, you must be the witness with amnesia then." The medical examiner's eyes lit up in that way that signaled an incoming memory as they shook hands. "That reminds me of this one young lady I met in-"

"The exam, Duck?"

"Right you are. Just come along with me." Ducky left with the teenager close on his tail. As the elevator doors closed behind them, Gibbs turned back to the rest of his crew. "McGee, what do you have for me on the lieutenant?"

Henry Rodriguez's files all appeared on screen as McGee listed off the information he had found. "Rodriguez has served in the Marines for twelve years now, about to reach thirteen. He has no immediate family, never married, and no apparent personal life except that he has a gambling addiction. As of September, he should have been stationed in Afghanistan."

"Then how did he wind up dead in D.C.?"

"I can't find any information that allowed for an early leave. All these documents," he gestured at the screen and his computer, "say that he is still in the Middle East."

Gibbs decided to switch routes and try the other side of the mystery. "And the plane ticket?"

Using the information on the boy's ticket, McGee had determined the time of arrival and the passenger list. "He arrived through Ronald Reagan Airport from Heathrow over a week ago. There were four boys on his flight, all of them accompanied by a guardian. Only one of them matched him however." A passport appeared on screen. "Alexander Rider. He was traveling business class with another man."

"Who was with him on the flight?" Gibbs asked.

A second passport popped up. "Benjamin Daniels, but based on all these documents here, boss, Daniels isn't his legal guardian."

"Then who is?"

"I-It's blocked. Someone's keeping me out of anything connected with the names Rider or Daniels."

Gibbs sighed. Another dead end. "Do you think you can make it through?"

"No. This would certainly take months, if not years, to get into and this is just the front door."

"All right. Dinozzo!"

"Yes, boss?" he stood up quickly, barely catching his coffee as it tipped forward. "Have Abby check the ballistics on Alex's gun to see if it's a match with the two bullets in our dead marine."

"Of course!"

Gibbs' phone rang as Tony left for Abby's subterranean lab. "Yes?"

"Jethro," a distraught Ducky answered. "You are going to need to see this."

"What is it?"

"It's…not something I can easily explain. Have Ziva come too. She may be able to explain some of what I'm seeing."

"I'll be right down." He hung the phone up and called for Ziva to follow him. "McGee. Find out where Rider and Daniels went after they got off that plane. Maybe this Daniels can explain some of this for us." The elevator doors clinked shut after he stepped in.

The two were met by the sight of a nervously pacing Ducky and Alex standing out of his way. "Alexander John Rider," Gibbs told Alex, who turned quickly to meet his eyes. "We believe that is your name."

"It sounds right," he smiled, "and I'm happy to know something about myself."

"But there's even more than we could have guessed, Jethro," Ducky spoke up as he stopped pacing. "Could you take off your shirt again, Alex?"

With a slight hesitation, he slid the borrowed shirt off over his head. Gibbs felt as some of the shock registered on his face, and Ziva took a hesitant step back. "Is that…?" Alex refused to meet any of their eyes, looking away almost shamefully.

Ducky stated the fact they couldn't voice for themselves, "That is a bullet scar. Not only that, but it was a professional sniper, and an excellent one at that, who almost got him straight through the heart. This was no accident, but an assassination attempt we are looking at."

Gibbs found his voice again, as he asked, "What did you need Ziva to look at?"

"These," he pointed to fainter scars lining the remainder of Alex's torso and arms. "As far as I can tell, none of these are left over from surgeries. Two of the smaller ones on his shoulder are from gunshots as well. This one," a long jagged line over his stomach, "would appear to have been from a medical scalpel, but not for health purposes. Someone tried to gut him. A couple of the thin ones are from sharp objects as well. This one, however, I cannot identify."

He had Alex turn so that Ziva could see the reddish bruise-like patterns running along his spine and shoulder blades. She got close enough to see the circular markings deeply ingrained in his skin. "I've only seen these once, but I must be mistaken."

"What do you think they are," Gibbs asked curiously, but realizing it wasn't going to be pleasant based on the previous scars.

"Brandings. They almost look like brandings I've seen in torture camps in the Middle East, but the skin wouldn't have healed this neatly if he had been branded."

Ducky nodded suddenly as a revelation struck him. "Unless of course skin grafts had been put on over the wounds to allow for a faster and cleaner healing. It would account for the slightly paler skin."

"Can I put a shirt back on?" Alex murmured quietly.

"Of course." Gibbs covered his both horrified and sad expression with one of understanding. "You and Ziva go ask about the ballistics report while I finish up here."

Alex was fingering the hem of his shirt as he peered nervously back at the two before following Ziva to meet Abby.

Gibbs turned back to Ducky. "If you had to do a psych evaluation on him, how would you put it, Duck?"

"Jethro…he's beyond traumatized already. I would have to place my bets on that whatever happened in the park shut him down entirely. The amnesia is his mind's last line of defense, erasing his memories when he could no longer deal with them."

Gibbs turned away, indecisive about where to go now. He pinched his nose and looked to the ceiling. "Then what do I do, Duck. I need to know who he is to finish this investigation, but what if I bring back those memories he needs to forget? Neither way is right or wrong."

"You follow your heart, Jethro, as you've always done," the medical examiner consoled him. "With the right help, the memories won't destroy him. Rather, they will help him grow."

"Thanks, Duck."

* * *

Abby was, of course, a very huggy person. The minute Alex took the last step down, he suddenly found himself incased in a strong pair of arms. Instincts he didn't remember told him to get out, but he suppressed them as fast as they came.

"You must be Alex!" the chipper voice of Abby said. "Tony didn't tell me how absolutely adorable you are!"

"Abby, you're going to suffocate him," Tony spoke up, with a trace of laughter in his voice.

"Sorry!" She stepped back, and Alex could see the Gothic forensics analyst more clearly. Her long black hair was swept into two pigtails on each side of her head and she was wearing a black lace shirt with black jeans. A spike collar around her neck seemed almost normal with the outfit.

Ziva stood with her arms crossed beside the pair of computers in Abby's lab. "What do you have, Abby?"

"I can't tell you guys yet," she complained, "or then I'd have to repeat it again for Gibbs!"

"Already here Abbs," came a voice behind her. She spun around to catch the Caf-POW! he handed her.

"Right on time, as usual." She sat down in her chair and pushed off to land perfectly in front of her computer. "So the ballistics report came in, and it's a perfect match to the gun you gave me. So all we have to do it pull the prints off it and…" she trailed off as everyone looked somewhat guilty. "What? Isn't it great that you have an easy open and closed case?"

"It's okay," Alex touched her shoulder. "They just didn't believe that I could have killed someone."

Her eyes widened and he noticed that it didn't appear she believed her own results either. "But you're really sweet and adorable and you couldn't possibly hurt someone!"

Another flash of memory seemed to come to him and he shook his head sadly. "I don't think that's true."

"Aww, don't give me those puppy dog eyes. Someone needs a hug!"

He sighed, sensing a trend, but complied as she put her arms around him.

"What else do you have, Abbs?"

"Oh!" She scooted her chair back into place and tapped at a couple keys on her keyboard to bring up the particles she had been inspecting. "Not only has your lieutenant been in D.C. when he wasn't supposed to be, but based on some of the particles I found in his shoes and hair, he's also been in Japan, North Korea and Russia within these past few months." She spun around to look at Gibbs. "The one place he hasn't been recently is Afghanistan. I doubt he was ever there at all."

"Good job, Abbs." Another Caf-POW! appeared mysteriously on her desk and he gave her a peck on the cheek.

"He likes me best," she winked at Tony and Ziva, who were already painfully aware of this.

* * *

As the elevator released the team plus Alex on to the main level, Gibbs was already handing out assignments.

"Ziva, tell me what Rodriguez was doing in Japan, North Korea and Russia when he should have been in Afghanistan. He had to have purchased plane tickets or something to get back and forth.

"Tony, check the contacts on his cell phone. If he has no family, then tell me who he _did_ contact. Give me friends, enemies, and anything in-between.

"McGee, what do you have for me so far?"

"Not much, boss, but I might have the hotel Daniels is in right now. He's listed as Matt Hamer, but his credit card is registered to Joseph Wiles which is connected to a bank account registered to Benjamin Daniels."

"Give me the hotel he's staying in. Dinozzo, you and McGee are with me. Ziva, find what Rodriguez was bouncing around so much for." Tony grabbed the keys Gibbs tossed his way. Letting Gibbs drive was a sign of the end of the world and Ziva's driving could very well bring on the apocalypse. Neither of them liked to pay much attention to the little things, like road signs and stop lights. It could make for an interesting ride.

* * *

Daniels was apparently doing well off, with a hotel in the nicest part of D.C., and a room on one of the top floors.

Gibbs flashed his NCIS ID badge to the receptionist at the front desk, who was quick to give them her master key. Tony pounded on the door, shouting "NCIS, open up!" as he did. There was a shuffle of feet from the inside as a voice called out, "Hold on, I'm coming," followed by the rapid coughs of a silenced gun and a sharp cry.

"Dinozzo, get that door opened now!" Tony stumbled to get the card in and unlock the door as McGee and Gibbs got their guns pulled out and aimed straight ahead.

To Tony's surprise, the door opened on its own before he had finished pulling the master card out. "Sorry about that," a tall lanky man with hair ruffled from sleep apologized in a wry tone. "I didn't expect to have so many visitors at the-" He stopped and looked at the teenager partially hidden behind Gibbs. "Alex?"

* * *

A/N: To start, an imaginary cookie to _SwedenBabe_, who correctly guessed that the title is derived from a poem in the Lord of the Rings (LOtR).

Next, I'm so happy that everyone likes my storyline so far. Ironically, my twin is working (but not yet publishing) a similar story for Fullmetal Alchemist with NCIS. We've split credit for the idea between both of us since we can't remember who thought up the plotline first. Personally, I think it was me, but with our telepathy, we have no proof one way or the other. Once she begins posting hers, I'll put up a link on my profile for anyone interested in how hers goes. A hint: It's going to be hilarious!

Lastly (is that a word?), I am here to inform you that this one will be much longer than either _Safehouse_ or _Favor_. I can't even plot out this entire story yet, and already I've laid out the next two chapters. For those who demanded a longer story, here you go!


	3. Chapter 3

Part three of _Those Who Wander_. ~ SamayouTamashi

* * *

"_Alex?"_

Alex moved forward to meet his eyes. "I think I remember you. Fox, right?"

Ben blinked. He bent down at the knees to be at the same height as Alex, looking at him closely. "Did you hit your head or something? I'm your partner, Ben. Remember?" he pleaded. The name Fox had been from a long, long time ago, and it had been so long since anyone had called him that.

"Your…partner?" Alex recalled someone being called his partner, but partner for what?

Gibbs interrupted the 'reunion,' setting a hand on Alex's head. "Alex was found at the scene of a crime in downtown D.C. with the gun used to kill Lieutenant Rodriguez, telling us that he couldn't even remember his name. I'm going to assume that you are Benjamin Daniels?"

"Sometimes," he waved off the name. "Currently my name is Matt Hamer, however, and it would be nice if you could keep it like that."

"Hey, what were those gun shots just now?" Tony spoke up suspiciously.

"Oh yeah, forgot about that. Come in and you can help me clean up the bodies."

"The wha-?"

Pushing the door fully open, the NCIS agents could see the broken window overlooking the Patomac River and the three bodies crumpled on the floor not far from it. The gunfire had clearly come from the M16 assault rifle held by one of them, based on the bullet holes behind where Ben was currently standing. "This is going to cost a fortune to have cleaned," he sighed tiredly to the confused NCIS agents. "Every time they find out where I'm staying, it's another bundle of money paid to these hotels for cleaning up the windows and stains, not to mention anything they break."

"This happens often?" McGee asked worriedly.

"Only while we've been here," he brushed off, including Alex in his description. "Damn those… Wait, how much do you already know in the case of the lieutenant," Ben cautiously asked them.

"Is there something we need to know?" Gibbs inquired.

"Truthfully, no, but if Alex is in your custody then I'm going to need to ask around. Is there anyway I can get ahold of SecNav from NCIS?"

"The Secretary of the Navy?" Tony laughed. "Hell no! You'd have to be-"

"Who do you work for?" interrupted Gibbs, seeing something in this man and the way he moved that reminded him of Alex.

"I'd have to go through SecNav," came the cool reply, "to know how much I can reveal to you and your team. First, though, I need to make some calls to a," he pulled a piece of paper from his jeans' pocket, "Joe Byrne about these bodies. I assumed you three had been sent by him, but I've been wrong before."

"Byrne is the deputy-director for covert actions in the CIA," McGee muttered under his breath to Gibbs.

"I know," his boss replied. "We can connect you to SecNav," he answered Ben, "as long as you assist my team on this investigation to the fullest you are allowed to."

"Agreed." Ben leaned down to meet Alex's wary eyes again. "Try to get over that amnesia, Cub," he sighed, using the teenager's code name from Brecon Beacons. "It was fun working with you and I hope we can be partners again." He ruffled Alex's fair hair before speaking to Gibbs again. "I'll give you some advice on him. Don't be around him when he's sleeping unless you want to meet an untimely end.* He doesn't react well to people waking him up."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, but nodded to the door. "SecNav isn't going to like being interrupted at nine in the morning, so let me get it over with quickly."

Ben had to smirk at that. "I knew of a similar person back where I come from. She was quite a bitch before her first peppermints.**"

While Tony and McGee walked with Ben ahead of them, Alex had lagged behind. He was thinking about Ben and how so many things he was halfway remembering seemed to be connected to him, or this _job_ he kept mentioning. Maybe he was wrong, but he didn't feel much older than fourteen or fifteen. You couldn't hold a real job until eighteen-ish, right?

Noticing Alex's hesitation and slow pace, Gibbs walked next to him. "You think you know him?"

Alex nodded. "There's flashes of his face every once in awhile. He mentioned that _he_ worked with _me_, which suggests that I was the senior in whatever job he has. That confuses me to no end. He knows the Secretary of the Navy and has connections in the CIA's covert actions department. Everything points to him working for the government.

"However, you said that my plane ticket was a two-way _from_ England and my accent points to me being British. Fox's accent is harder to pick out than mine, but it's still there. So how and why would a Brit work in the American government?"

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Gibbs complemented, "but why do you call him Fox?"

"I…" The creases in his forehead were back. "I think I knew him as Fox from sometime a while back. There were others with similar names too, like Wolf and Snake. Maybe some more too."

England's SAS troops go under code names, Gibbs thought to himself.

"And when he called me Cub, that brought something back too. I remembered meeting him in Wales. There was a name like beacons, I think."

The SAS recruits go through most of their initial training in Breacon Beacons, a remote camp in Wales, to find the best of the pack. Barely one in ten make it.***

"I'm sure it'll all come back. Don't try for everything at once," cautioned Gibbs, worried somewhat that what Ducky had warned could be true. There was, after all, a reason behind the sudden amnesia.

* * *

An hour later in MTAC:

Vance was irritated that Gibbs had brought someone in who asked to see SecNav without even offering up his identification. "Technically, we have to go through SecNav to _get_ his permission for Daniels' identity in the first place," Gibbs was arguing with him. "Both his and Rider's identities are under so many firewalls that McGee has had a field day just trying to get through their front door."

"Fine," Vance relented, "but if I catch hell for this, the aftermath is not going to be pretty."

"Understood." He waved Daniels up from the chair he'd borrowed from Tony's desk. He'd been casually flirting with Ziva, who was happy to bask in his attention and even offer back complements of her own. Tony was busy sulking by McGee's desk. Alex had fallen asleep on Gibbs' desk and no one had the heart-or the courage, after Ben's warning-to wake him up. Abby commented that he looked like the kind to break hearts when he got old enough to catch them. No one brought up that he already had done plenty of the latter.

Daniels nodded at Vance on passing while speaking to Gibbs. "I take it I have the permission?"

"Behave yourself, Daniels. The director insists that the two of us are going to be on hand, though the rest of my crew is likely going to be eavesdropping."

Tony, barely within hearing, flushed bright red as his plan was foiled and crushed.

"If Alex trusts you guys," he grinned, "then I'd trust you with my life, much less some little bits of information."

As Gibbs had predicted, SecNav was not happy at having his morning interrupted. "I've got a busy afternoon to look forward to already. Is a few hours really that hard to get in?"

Vance was about to speak up, but Daniels caught him to the punch, stepping into the view of the camera. "I'm sorry for the interruption, sir, but I need your permission to reveal some of your country's secrets for a potentially dangerous case that NCIS has taken upon themselves."

SecNav leaned forward in his chair to see his screen better. "And you would be?"

"Ahh, I think your people would know me better as Rider's protégée," he smiled shamelessly.

With the name Rider in the air, SecNav was suddenly all smiles and open arms. "Extend my greetings to Agent Rider! It has been much too long since he has been a guest in our country. You must be Agent Daniels, then? MI6 has informed me of your steady progress up the ranks. My congratulations on the new apprenticeship. It should be a marvelous and once-in-a-lifetime experience if you live through it."

"Yeah, please don't remind me about that. He only told me recently about his previous associates'... untimely demises and I still haven't gotten over my high chances for death. But moving back to business, I need permission from the CIA and FBI to discuss the reasons you pulled Rider and I overseas. There were some recent…incidents that have put my partner in custody as a suspect for a recent murder."

"Well, did he do it?"

"Of course, but it's _who_ he killed that should clear him. One of your marine lieutenants was a member of SCORPIA that we were sent to flush out. I was unsure as to how much of this I could discuss with NCIS."

SecNav chuckled. "If you and Rider should deem it appropriate for NCIS to know, then I can work through any problems the CIA might have with it, much less the FBI. I'll approve it as long as Rider's work for us isn't leaked, you understand?"

Daniels laughed with him. "Believe me, I would hate for it to leak in our _own_ country, much less overseas. The publicity would be atrocious for business. I was just briefly speaking with Byrne, who said to ask for you, but I figured both of you would authorize the whole deal anyway."

"Completely. If you encounter any problems, send them through me and I will manage it. We still owe Rider for a couple hundred favors."

"He'd be happy to see you keeping your side. I'll give him your greetings the next time we meet."

The screens on both sides went blank.

"All right, I guess I have permission to brief your team," Daniels turned to Gibbs and Vance, who had kept to the side while listening to the conversation.

"Who is this Agent Rider?" Gibbs asked slowly. "Is it Alex's father?"

A slow grin spread over Daniels' face. "His father was the original Rider, and his uncle the second one. Alex _is_ the current Agent Rider as well as the senior field agent, and deputy director of MI6."

This new piece of information was greeted with silence as Gibbs and Vance both considered the implications behind it.

Daniels noticed their internal struggle and pitied them, saying, "Gather your team in one of the private meeting rooms, Gibbs, and I'll explain as much as I can."

Gibbs walked over to the balcony and whistled to catch his team's attention. "Conference room three, and tell Abbs to look over Alex while we're away."

"You've gotten attached to him too, haven't you?" Daniels quietly asked from beside him, as if he already knew the answer. "Everyone he meets would either kill him or trade their own lives for his. It's a hard life, but he's the best." He wasn't _one _of the best, Ben thought, but _the _undisputed leading spy among both England and the States and recognized as such by both. There was no way for him to escape the spy business anymore.

"How long has he been in this gig?"

"Even I have no idea. I'll explain as much as I know with the rest of your team there to hear."

As Ben Daniels turned the corner to enter the conference room, Vance spoke privately to Gibbs. "If all of this is as top-secret as SecNav is making it sound, then ensure your agents know how important it is that anything mentioned here, stays here."

"Vance, my agents are the best. They would never do something so stupid as to go blurting state secrets to the public."

"You can never be too sure, Gibbs."

* * *

"So you get to tell us what these CIA people have been hiding from us again?" Tony asked, not implying in _any _way any _specific _CIA employees who would _ever_ hide _anything_ from them. No, not at all…

Ben had to smile at the comment, as it reminded him of his similar attitude towards his own employers. "In a way, yes. More specifically, I'm here to speak about a certain group of people that I'm worried have come into your investigation.

"There is a terrorist organization that has been around for about a decade now called SCORPIA. Their name stands for **S**abotage, **Cor**ru**p**tion, **I**ntelligence and **A**ssassination, and they specialize in all of the above more so than any other terrorist groups I've known or heard of. While some of their plots can be relatively small, many wind up having huge effects globally."

"The Mossad have often had troubles with them in the Middle East," Ziva added. "Their very presence can spark conflicts and reignite old feuds between perfectly peaceful countries."

"Too true. The reason my partner and I came over to the States was because Agent Rider, who has taken me under his wing as the newest agent, was requested for help from the CIA and FBI. They believe that SCORPIA has been planting some of their own agents in the military as sleeper cells. Not only do they strongly worry about this, but proof is mounting to suggest they are indeed correct in their beliefs.

"The lieutenant you have been investigating-something Rodriguez, I believe-was one of the few forced out of their sleeper positions and into the second step of their overall scheme. Rider and I lost contact before we could find out any more than this. Since we split, I've been changing hotels daily to get them off my tail. By coming here, they will know you are on to them."

"And who is this Agent Rider?" McGee asked the spy. "What exactly do you do and who are you working for?"

"I worked for the SAS, but more recently I was recruited as the newest spy for MI6. Agent Rider is the senior field agent at MI6-much like Gibbs for NCIS-as well as the deputy director since Jones retired to return to MI5.**** As for who he is," he smirked, "you all know him better as Alex Rider, the youngest and only teenage spy in the business today."

* * *

A/N: I've had so much fun with this story that I haven't stopped writing all day! You all are so wonderful that I have released not one, but **two** chapters in one day. This is going to be so much fun to write and I hope you get used to the cliffies. Muahahahaha… Also, I will be continuing the AR arc I created with a story similar to this for those who haven't read the cross-over. This isn't final, however, so don't expect it too soon.

* This refers back to _Safehouse_ in case you haven't read it. Some of his injuries refer back to _Favor_, also. I guess I should include here that he's halfway to sixteen at this point, so this takes place a couple months after the conclusion of _Favor_.

** Yes, I'm referring to Tulip Jones. Only people with serious issues (like me) aren't grumpy early in the morning, so I figured she'd be similar. Blunt is always so dull, that I figured him as one of those people who constantly looks alert despite the time of day.

*** This is true. As to how I know this…I have my resources. *evil laughter*

**** Once again, corresponds to _Favor_. It's much simpler if you just read the _Safehouse_ arc before coming to this one.


	4. Chapter 4

Part four of _Those Who Wander_ ~ SamayouTamashi

* * *

"_You all know him better as Alex Rider, the youngest and only teenage spy in the business today."_

Tony snorted. "Yeah, and I'm Lady Gaga."

"It would certainly explain the wide range of scars he has," Gibbs nodded, once more finding no trouble ignoring Dinozzo.

"And MI6 would have no problems finding someone to put up that firewall I ran into," McGee agreed. "The names Daniels and Rider were under such heavy protection that I can't be entirely surprised."

Ben was glad that at least half of them seemed to have no problems accepting what he was saying as fact. "The only reason I'm telling you all this classified information is because the threat of SCORPIA is growing with every day. Alex is our expert on all things related to SCORPIA and their tactics, and I need him with all of his memories back in place.

"However, you still have technical custody over him until this case is closed, so until his amnesia clears up, it may be safer with him here rather than in the field."

"And why would that be?" Tony asked. "Aren't you spy-types supposed to be super ninjas, or whatever?"

"Most of us are just run-of-the-mill ex-soldier types _actually_, but Alex is a different sort. You've hit the ninja thing on the head, but," he frowned, "Alex is…_was_ too close to this whole case. SCORPIA isn't the regular 'world domination/destruction' kind with him. Both his parents, uncle, and housekeeper were killed by them, not to mention that they have a similar vengeance against him."

"Don't tell me. He stole one of their nukes or something," Tony joked, still unable to take the spy seriously. After all, teenagers aren't spies. It just doesn't seem possible to most people, and it shouldn't be.

Ben slammed both his hands on the table and looked the NCIS agent in the eye. "No, he killed half their board of directors, their liaisons to multiple terrorist groups, _and_ stole a dozen nuclear missiles they had stashed in North Korea out from under their noses." Tony's eyes widened and he gulped as he leaned back away from the irritated spy.

Forgetting Tony for the moment, he turned to Gibbs. "As far as I know, there have been two assassination attempts backed by SCORPIA on him. He never brought up the topic of any others. Even as cocky as they have been, they shouldn't know of his amnesia this early on and it needs to stay that way. Any agents here who know _anything_ about Alex, even if they just caught a glimpse of him, need to be monitored carefully. If it sneaks out that he's here, you will be looking at a full out battle in your building. It has happened before."

Gibbs nodded in agreement. "You say he needs those memories, but wouldn't it be better for him to forget everything and start over again."

The same thought had crossed Ben's mind countless times before. "It wouldn't matter if he left the business, Gibbs. You don't understand. He has too many enemies now and many of them are more powerful than you can imagine. Alex is the best we have between Britain and the States, and he has more contacts in the Underground and black market than any other agents in our business. And he knows…knew that."

It was frustrating for Gibbs to get everything straight in his head. "So he's a weapon."

"And a _friend_," he stressed. "I hate this just as much as you, but if he wants to stay alive in the world he's been living, he _needs_ those memories back."

"What do you think we should do?" Ziva broke in to the conversation. As a former Mossad agent herself, she understood better than most the sacrifices you have to make for your country, despite any age barriers.

"Ms. David, I assume you know how to fight?" His eyes sparkled brightly.

* * *

Alex had woken to find the place nearly empty at ten that morning. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes, sensing that he had woken more out of reflex than anything else, seeing as how he still felt just as tired as before.

"Aww, you're so cute when you do that," Abby giggled from his left. He turned to see her sitting behind Ziva's computer. The rest of the NCIS agents were evidently somewhere else for the moment.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Only three hours. I can set out a blanket in my lab if you want to sleep longer. No one should disturb you there."

"No, I think I'm going to be awake for awhile now." Truthfully, more sleep would have been heavenly, but something instinctual kept him up.

"If you ever change your mind… They're returning!" she spun around in Ziva's chair, being the only one who could even think of crossing into the agent's space without worry of being 'accidentally' killed for trespassing. "How'd it go, Gibbs?"

"Do you have anything else for us, Abbs?" he diverted as the rest of the team filed down the stairs, Ben still his usual bouncy self, but the rest of them somewhat toned down. Alex noticed Tony taking 'stealthy' glances at him and wondered what Fox had told them to make the agent wary of him.

"Not so much." Her results came up on the screen, "His clothes have all been thoroughly cleaned, and they were bought recently while he was here in D.C. Ducky couldn't find any evidence of a phone, credit cards, or anything else to tell us where he was staying. All the fibers on his clothes relate to the park you found him in. Before that, he could have been in Antarctica for all I know."

"But if he had a credit card," McGee said slowly as he sat down to type on his keyboard, "it would be connected to his bank account, which could point us to where he's been."

"Get on it, then. Ziva and Daniels, go take a break. Alex, you're with them." Gibbs turned to Tony. "Dinozzo, grab us all some coffee. It's going to be a long day."

"Yes, boss."

Alex and Ben followed Ziva's lead to the elevator and then to the gym that took up the level right above autopsy and Abby's lab. "You know anything about sparring, Rider?" Ziva challenged.

He thought about it before an early memory with his uncle surfaced. "I think I do."

"Daniels here thinks that if you only work with the muscles, the mind has a chance to recover muscle memory. Some other memories should come back along with them."

"If you think it will work... I really want to remember. I get the feeling there was something important that I forgot with everything else, and bad things are going to happen if I don't tell anyone."

"Just let it come naturally," Ben said. "Rushing things won't help."

"But you knew me, right? Can't you just tell me about myself to make things go faster?"

"I don't want everything to come back at once, Alex. Let it come on its own time," he soothed.

"And you think this will help?" Alex asked, gesturing at Ziva leaning by the open and padded space.

"Absolutely. Your strongest memories are the ones engrained permanently in your muscles and reflexes. Just do what seems natural while you're sparring."

Alex sighed. Something told him that he had been a decent fighter before the amnesia. Hold back, his subconscious was telling him, or someone might get hurt.

Ziva showed him where the borders to their sparring ring were and said she'd start slow for him.

At first, it was just slow kicks and punches in his direction. He didn't try to compensate for them or retaliate, instead stepping aside before they hit. Then Ziva sped up, adding in feints to throw him off. Yet he knew where every hit was going to land before she finished throwing them, reading her movements and eyes to see when she was faking and going for a hit. It became an easy game, taking small steps to make the hits barely miss and using his small stature to throw off her aim.

She began to actually try for a point when Ziva realized that he wasn't going to go for a hit. Moving faster than before, he swerved his whole body to the side when she aimed kicks at his side and rolled when the hits were aimed higher than his torso.

Ben was speaking to him from the sidelines. "Strike back!" he was calling out.

At some point, he began offering his own punches, pulling them at first but then realizing he didn't have to against Ziva. It wasn't until one of his blows landed to take the agent off her feet that he realized the points he had been hitting had been purposely landing around nerve points.

But the fight was just starting to get interesting. Ziva spun back to her feet, kicking upwards at his chest and sending him down to the floor. Instead of standing, he shot a foot out to tap behind her thigh. Her leg collapsed, but not before she pulled one of his arms behind his back. On her knees, she pinned him to the floor. Or so she thought. Using his feet, he pushed her over his head and rolled backwards to stand again.

As he stood this time, his right foot moved in front and his left to the side with both hands ready to either block or hit in front of him: a standard fighting pose he clearly recalled from so many years of practicing karate, muay-thai, and tae-quon-do.

Ziva took a similar stance, and the real fight began.

* * *

Tony took the elevator down to deliver the much-appreciated coffee to Ben and Ziva. When he stepped out and into the practice room, he blinked.

Alex and Ziva were no longer sparring, but in an all-out match to the death. On closer inspection, their eyes had lost any gleam of emotion as they looked at each other only as targets and no longer as fellow humans.

"How long have they been at it?" he asked Ben.

From his perch leaning against the wall opposite the fighters, he shrugged. "They were going fairly slowly until a couple minutes ago, and suddenly you'd think they were settling a blood feud or something." He stood up and stretched his sore shoulders above his head. "It's a good thing Ziva is so good or I'm worried Alex might have killed her by now. He loses his mind while he fights and that's exactly what I want to happen."

"Worry not. No one beats Ninja David unless they want to look forward to hell the next day."

His point was proven when Ziva finally made a direct blow to his temple, dazing Alex and sending him to the floor with his hand over the bruise that would be forming.

Ben crossed the floor to ruffle his former-partner's hair. "You looked like you were having fun."

But Ziva looked pissed off to say the least, as she spun on the British spy. "What were you thinking, having me fight him?"

He stumbled back a step, holding his hands in front of him. "What? You didn't injure him too badly and it might have helped."

"No," she hissed, "quite the opposite. If I hadn't dazed him, he would have killed me. You should have told me that SCORPIA had trained him, Daniels."

"SCORPIA? No, he works for MI6..." he trailed off in a confused manner. "He may have killed, but he was never an assassin."

A quiet voice spoke up from the floor, "I think she's right."

Ben, Tony and Ziva looked over at the blond standing up slowly, still recovering from the dizziness of the unexpected hit. "I remembered something while we were fighting. SCORPIA were the ones who taught me how to shoot. I did some kind of training for them, and I think that sometimes I had to suppress how they showed me to fight. Ziva's right. I shouldn't be fighting anyone until I remember everything."

"I didn't know," Ben whispered, shaking his head. "You never told me."

"Your name is Ben, right?"

Ben Daniels smiled. "Yeah."

"I think I remember something about Bangkok, and I met you there through MI6?"

"Maybe this is helping you more than I thought."

Ziva shook her head. "I refuse to fight him again. The next time he loses himself, I might not be so lucky to get such a shot again."

Tony laughed. "I never thought I'd live to see the day where you'd admit defeat, Ziva."

"You'd like to try your look then?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Oh no, you'd pound me into the ground before I even raised a hand."

Alex sat back on the edge of the mats, pulling his legs in against his chest. "I was a spy, wasn't I? I didn't want to do it, but then something happened and I couldn't push myself hard enough."

Ben shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Yeah, your housekeeper."

"Jack. She...something happened to her."

"SCORPIA had her shot after MI6 made an agreement with them about your protection. You couldn't be killed directly, so they shot her in front of you to make their point clear. After you recovered, you couldn't be out in the field too much. I think the real reason we were paired together was for me to pull you back down from the clouds to see clearly again."

"And then Russia and Afghanistan a couple months apart before we were sent after SCORPIA in the States."

"Right. You insisted on going by yourself, but Blunt was worried that you were out for revenge and the mission would be ignored."

"He was probably right," Alex admitted.

"We came in and then I can't remember anything after I stepped off the plane."

"Neither do I. You insisted that we get off separately and get to the hotel by different routes. I left first and never saw you until NCIS knocked on my door."

"How did you know that the lieutenant was working for SCORPIA?" Ziva asked.

"The tattoo," they replied simultaneously.

"It was on his trigger finger," Alex explained, briefly recalling his meeting with the lieutenant in the park. "All of SCORPIA's people have the silver symbol on whichever finger they use to shoot as a means of recognizing each other. It's small enough that it goes unnoticed by anyone not looking for it."

Their conversation was interrupted by Abby running into the room. "McGee was able to find something!" she said excitedly. "There's no phone down here, so Gibbs sent me to get you."

* * *

A/N: Soooo many reviews! I love all you guys so much that you all get imaginary cookies whether you reviewed or not. Remember, reviews are food for my imagination. The more reviews, the better I know what you guys like and/or dislike.

This chapter might have been a little fast, but I needed Alex to start remembering stuff to make the next part more interesting. His personality should start changing noticeably from now until the end, so don't complain that he seems to have multiple personalities. As the memories come back, the innocence he seemed to have up till now should fade over and the harder, colder Agent Rider will start to come out more.

**Side note:** One of my wonderful anonymous reviewers brought up that Alex seemed a little OOC with him being deputy director, but remember that this is supposed to be a good 6 months _at least_ ahead of _Snakehead_. I can't imagine that at this point, any agent would be better for the job than him with the sheer amount of experience he has. On a more emotional side, Jones was the softer one between her and Blunt, and Alex is the one filling in her seat. He knows what the field looks like, and the reality of the situation out there, making him incredibly understanding towards the worries, fears, and pain of his subordinates. I try to imagine him as a mix between a seasoned spy _and_ teenage boy. While both will be visible in my fics, try to imagine that psychologically speaking, he _is an adult_. His childhood is already over, guys, and he's accepted this from my point of view.


	5. Chapter 5

Part five of _Those Who Wander_. ~ SamayouTamashi

* * *

Gibbs was tapping his fingers on his desk as the rest of his crew, Daniels and Alex stepped into the circle of cubicles. "McGee, repeat the information you've found for the rest of us to hear."

"While I couldn't find anything pertaining to Lieutenant Rodriguez directly, I was able to find information for a second bank account he's been hiding from his superiors. While the rest of his modest paychecks are going into this bank account," he pulled up the records under Henry Gerald Rodriguez, "he has a second bundle of money hidden in a completely separate account under another name entirely." A second set of records were put beside the first, this one under the name of John Jameson Young.

"Then, which one's the real one?" Tony asked, looking back and forth between the two.

"One of his identities has been a lieutenant with a modest paycheck, spotless record, and no family and few friends to speak of," McGee said, pointing at the first account's records. Moving to the second one, he continued, "Young, on the other hand, has been getting yearly checks from an account connected to one L. Kroll, of whom I can find no other information on. Both would appear to be real from the outside, but my guess is that Young is the real identity."

"Levi Kroll," Alex interrupted confidently, as the name sparked something in his memory. "He's one of SCORPIA's current executive board along with Dr. Three, the current chairman, Zeljan Kurst, and a nameless fourth who recently joined to replace the more deceased Hideo Mikato.*"

Even Ben had to pause at the new information. "I guess that amnesia is starting to fade off then," Gibbs assumed.

Alex shrugged. "It comes and goes. I recalled a certain run-in with Kroll, and it came back to me when you brought up his name."

Based on what he had already heard about SCORPIA from Daniels, Gibbs could assume that the 'run-in' could probably account for some of those scars he was harboring. "Anything else come to mind?"

"Kroll was operating out of Kyrgyzstan the last I heard of him and his jobs were primarily in stirring up the smaller terrorist cells located near the border of Tajikistan. One of the other executives is likely handling whatever is going on over here. Probably the one replacing Mikato, because Three is more the...hands-on sort of person," he grimaced, recalling the incident that had given him the red scars along his spine, "and Kurst often acts more as mediator between the rest of them, handling the more delicate manners like taking care of the funding and tying up loose ends."

Gibbs decided not to bring up Dr. Three again. "Could this fourth person have connections in the American military?"

"SCORPIA has connections everywhere," the spy amended. "I would be shocked if they hadn't gotten a mole in the US military yet. What confuses me is why they would keep someone as low as a lieutenant as a sleeper cell. Their contacts would be high-ranking officials, more often than not."

"And Rodriguez didn't seem the sort to be looking into promotions," Ben added. "If his accounts are correct, then in the years he has been there, he has been promoted only twice. The last two promotions offered to him were even turned down."

"If he were looking into a long-term service as a sleeper cell," Ziva spoke up, "then he would be making more friends in his unit as well. It's almost as if he isn't trying to fit in."

"We aren't looking at a sleeper cell, then," Gibbs decided. "Something is going to happen relatively soon. McGee, look for cases like our lieutenant's. Abby, try to pinpoint the locations he was in with those particles of yours."

"Aye, aye, captain." Abby spun in Ziva's chair to leap up and move back to her lab, her Caf-POW! in hand.

"I have a hit, boss." Gibbs turned to McGee. "Lance Corporal** Neal Ryan. Just like Rodriguez, he's supposed to be overseas right now, but I have footage of him in the park where we found the lieutenant from only yesterday."

"Where can we find him, McGee?"

"It looks like he's booked a room in the same hotel as Daniels."

Ben's eye twitched. "I had SCORPIA assassins in the same hotel as me?"

"We don't know if he's SCORPIA too, Agent Daniels. It's possible that there's just a coincidence at hand here. McGee, find more of these people who aren't where they should be even if you have to dig into the Army and Air Force's database. Anything they have to complain about can run through Byrne and SecNav, unless of course either of you has anyone _else_ on speed dial?"

Ben was about to shake his head when Alex tapped at the side of his temple. "There might have been an Air Force Chief of Staff I'm forgetting about by the name of Terrell."

"You know Chief of Staff Raymond Terrell?" McGee asked incredulously as Alex snapped his fingers. "Raymond, that was it!"

Gibbs just sighed, no longer surprised. "Dinozzo, Ziva and Daniels, you're with me. McGee, keep at it."

Alex stood up. "What do you want me to do?"

His eyes softened as Gibbs faced the teenage spy. "I want you to rest and tell anything that comes back about SCORPIA to Special Agent McGee over here." He rounded up the rest of those accompanying him and tossed the keys to Tony, who kept them safely away from Ziva.

With a sigh, Alex sat back down behind Gibbs' desk.

"He only does it because he doesn't want you to get hurt," McGee broke the silence. "The boss hates to see kids get in the middle of things."

"Yeah, I wish everyone would see the world in the way he does. It's just so hard to sit still while the rest of you are working your tails off."

"You _are_ still a teenager, Alex."

"I know...but I feel older than that. Wait, how old _am_ I?"

McGee took a break from his assignment to bring the passport back up. "You were exactly halfway to sixteen as of last week."

"Only fifteen? I don't feel that young, somehow."

McGee's phone rang, and the agent picked it up. "McGee, here." Someone was speaking quickly on the other end. "Alex, could you run over down to Ducky and take some evidence over to Abby?"

Excited by the chance to do something, he happily went to grab the elevator. "Autopsy is in the basement, right?"

"Abby's lab is also down there, just a few doors to the right of Ducky's."

"Thanks." He took the elevator to the lowest level and went to where he remembered the autopsy room was. Alex peeked his head in first, not wanting to disturb the medical examiner. "Ducky?"

"Right here. Do come on in. My hands are a little full at the moment," the English-accented voice drifted out. He stepped in slowly, not minding the dead bodies but more the room itself. Something...bad had nearly happened in a room like this. "Sorry I can't hand you the evidence myself."

Ducky was currently working with the body on his table, the chest opened in the typical 'Y' shape. His hands were working deftly to note the health and functionings of each organ at the time of death.

"It's okay. What did you need me to take to Abby?"

"Miss Sciuto had requested a sample of the tattoo on this man's index finger. What she wants with it, you would have to ask her yourself." Ducky looked up from his work to point his bloodied glove in the direction of a metal side table to the other side of the corpse. "I set aside a sample on the tray over there."

As Alex carefully lifted the glass slide, Ducky set down the tweezers he had been using and rubbed his forehead. "You really don't mind the body, do you?"

Alex blinked. "Of course not. I've seen plenty of them in my time."

"But my boy, that isn't natural. While Jethro sees you as a child, I know you are already more experienced than most of us. It's in your eyes." The medical examiner sighed as he tossed his gloves into the bin by his feet. "You don't know this, but Jethro is more like you than either of you realizes. His wife and daughter were both murdered. By your demeanor, I think I can hazard a reasonable guess that you have had at least one person taken from you as well, maybe more.

"I know that you close yourself intentionally, Alex, and not by reflex. At least, not yet. While you're here, could you at least _pretend_ to be a teenager again? For Jethro's sake, at the very least?"

Setting the slide back on the tray, Alex fell back into one of the plastic chairs by the sliding set of glass doors. "It's...hard remembering everything. I can barely even remember anything not related to my work, because at some point, none of it was important to me anymore. At some point, I had a friend at school who understood me, and now that's all I recall. I don't even remember his name now.

"My housekeeper, Jack Starbright, was shot by SCORPIA and I only think of her as another casualty in my war with them. An innocent bystander caught in the crossfire. That's all I have left of her. My parents and uncle were also killed, but that's all I know of them."

He ran his hands through his hair in a nervous gesture. "And yet, I can visualize nearly all of my assignments since the very first one almost two years ago. Why is it that I can bring back every single moment from those missions, and yet I can't even remember my birthdate? It makes me feel...inhuman, somehow."

"Often, traumatic circumstances are ingrained deeper in the subconscious than the memories you may have taken for granted. The rest should come back on their own time, just maybe a little slower."

Alex smiled a little. "If you would switch to a Yoda voice and say 'patience, padawan…'"

"I'll leave the movie quotes to Tony. He seems to be doing quite well on his own." Ducky slipped a new pair of latex gloves on. "However, you might find that humor will actually assist you in recovering your memories faster. In fact, that reminds me of a-"

"Maybe another time." Alex was smart enough to see where this was going. "Abby's going to need this sample."

"Anytime, my boy."

Walking down the hallway to Abby's lab, he thought of Smithers, the gadgetmaker of MI6. Him and Ducky are incredibly alike, he decided.

Abby had laid all of the lieutenant's possessions on a metal table to the side of her lab, along with hair and skin samples. "I have the tattoo sa-" He was suddenly hugged by the gothic forensics analyst before he even got a chance to finish his thought.

"Alex, I missed you so much!"

"You saw me just a half an hour ago."

"See! That's an awfully long time for me!" She let go of him to take the glass slide from his fingers. "And here I have the sample connecting our dead lieutenant to these evil people."

"Except that the ink won't be recorded in any of your databases, and the guy who made the tattoo has no previous record except that relating to SCORPIA." Alex said this just as Abby's search engine dinged a negative.

"Well that's no fun. Where do you think they came from then?"

"The ink was probably handmade on Malagosto by their botanist, Eijit Binnag, and tattooed by the principal of the school there, Oliver d'Arc. But that's just my guess based on what I know of them."

Abby tapped a pen against her chin. "If you could point out this Malagosto on a map, I could maybe try to match at least the ink to plants in the area based on the chemical compound." She brought up a map of the world through the internet and moved in closer to Italy as Alex directed her.

"It would be in this area," he said, circling a small expanse of the Mediterranean just off the coast of Venice with his index finger. "That small brown blotch there is probably Malagosto."

"Holy moly, that's tiny. I don't think I can determine the fauna from that area, but," she brought up a map of the surrounded ocean and tiny islands, "based off the chemicals in the ink, there was at least some dye taken from this flower." Abby pulled up a picture of a small black flower with red streaks dyeing the stem. "While this flower, _akui_ to the Japanese and _veleno_*** to the Italians, is poisonous to the touch, dyes have been extracted on rare occasions."

"With a name like _akui_ or _veleno_, I could see SCORPIA using it."

"I know, right?" She created a three-dimensional model of the ink's chemical compound. "See, this part here was made with the flower's extract. The rest of this seems to be an adhesive to make the ink bond to the skin so that the ink won't fade over time. It's quite an ingenious dye, and I can see why no one else has created something like this. The cost would be outrageous for the possible harm to the ink-maker's health."

Abby spun in her chair, clicking her steel-toed black leather boots together. "So all we have to do is look for this little tattoo on their fingers to know if they're SCORPIA?"

"Not necessarily. Some of their sleeper cells don't have the tattoo on them, and yet SCORPIA can still identify them probably through signals to each other or something. I think if they go undercover, the tattoo is actually removed."

"So," she sighed, "how do we find them?"

He perked up. "If you just let me near them, they've been told to kill me on sight. That's always a dead giveaway."

Abby mentally thwacked herself in the head. "How about something in which we don't have to worry about your safety or for times when you aren't on hand?"

"You'd have to ask Ben," he shrugged. "I always looked for the tattoo or let my name sneak out if they asked who I was."

"Can you run up and have McGee phone Ziva or Tony? Gibbs never has his phone on, and when he does, he leaves it in his desk."

"Sure thing. Also, Gibbs told me to tell you to look under your hippo." The comment had seemed kind of strange, but Gibbs had assured him that Abby would understand. Somehow.

"He didn't." She scooted over on her chair to snatch up the random stuffed hippo (Bert) to squeal in delight as she found the Caf-POW! hiding beneath it. "He did! And it's still cold."

Alex shook his head and took the elevator back up as Abby waved at him. As the elevator doors opened, he saw Ziva escorting an unfamiliar man in handcuffs to interrogation. They happened to pass each other, and as Ziva looked up to nod a hello in his direction, Alex's eyes met with the man's. Both of their eyes widened.

"Alex?"

"Walker?"

* * *

A/N: This chapter felt really long, but it's one of those boring filler chapters that I need to add. Next chapter, expect some action!

Also, sorry for the wait. Next week school resumes (if the ice is cleared), so it will take me longer to get everything typed and posted.

* Many of SCORPIA's board of directors have already been killed surrounding my _Safehouse_ arc, and I just kept on with the same idea. Three, Kroll, Kurst and the currently unnamed fourth are the only ones left on the board at this point. The nameless fourth is my OC, so please don't complain. Also, anything I remember about the three real SCORPIA executives comes off Horowitz's website and Wikipedia; the rest I just made up for the purpose of the story...

** You have no idea how confusing the ranking system for the US military is. It's different for the Marines, Air Force, Navy, etc. and breaks down even further for whether you are enlisted or not. *sigh* I should get paid for all the research I do for my fanfics...

*** _Akui_ is Japanese for _bad intent _and _veleno_ is Italian for _poison_.


	6. Chapter 6

Part six of _Those Who Wander_. Sorry for the wait, but I hope you enjoy! ~ SamayouTamashi

* * *

"_Alex?"_

"_Walker?"_

Ziva stopped. "You know each oth-?"

Walker twisted out of her grip and slid out of one handcuff in a single smooth and practiced move. Simultaneously, Alex launched a kick at his exposed stomach before dropping to shoot a foot out to trip him.

"Traitor," Walker hissed at him, narrowing his eyes to snake-like slits. Two daggers slid from where he had concealed them in his sleeves as he lunged upward.

Alex grabbed one of his wrists, yanking it to the side and back behind the assassin before kicking him against the opposite wall with the side of his knee. Ziva grabbed the daggers from him and twisted Walker's hands painfully behind his back. "Why don't you properly introduce me to your friend here, Alex."

"This is Walker. Former CIA and currently SCORPIA. We trained together on Malagosto some time back."

"And you betrayed us," the pinned man growled angrily. "We were _comrades_, and you left us for MI6 when they didn't treat you half as well as we would have. You've killed our people, and for that, you will die a horrible death."

"You have so many friends," Ziva nodded solemnly.

"So true. It's in keeping them that I have a problem."

Gibbs and Tony, who had been coming in behind Ziva, took in the new crime scene. "Can't go three steps without getting into more fights, eh Ziva?" Tony chuckled.

"It was not me who was doing the fighting, Tony." Alex had gone to sit at Gibbs' desk, as he had made a habit of doing, and she turned to look over at his faraway expression. "They just saw each other and then I had to fight to keep them off of each others' throats."

"There's more to this than we must realize." Gibbs held up the fingers of the dazed "Lance Corporal Ryan". "This man has no fingerprints."

* * *

Abby brought up a picture of the man's fingertips on the screen. While he had been born with perfectly fine prints at birth, what was left of them was a flat unmarred surface, slowly healing to form a new set of prints.

She zoomed in on the index finger. "While you and I have nice thick skin cells covering our fingers to help us grip materials and be identified through the unique swirls that form, this man likely used a strong acid, or extreme heat, to eradicate his record through his prints. He's done it quite a few times too. Look at this little tiny spot here," Abby leaned out of her chair to point at a particularly painful looking red patch on the side of the fingernail. "Right along his nail, the skin hasn't been able to heal as fast as the rest of his finger. Ducky would be able to give you a better estimate, but the evidence here says that he probably burns his fingers once a year to change fingerprints. Gibbs, AFIS could easily be programmed with a new fingerprint to match his new identity, which explains how he could have gotten accepted into the military so easily. He would have no background except the one made to match those prints."

"Do we have anything else off of him?"

Walker, as Ziva said that Alex called him, brought up no relevant searches. The CIA was denying he was ever one of them, though the quick denial was evidence enough against them. His service records supposedly stretched back far, but McGee was finding information on this Walker when he worked for an unnamed "shipping industry" only two years back.

Gibbs had disappeared into the interrogation room for the time being, and Alex found himself watching the team hustle together information…well, McGee was anyway. Ziva and Tony seemed to be less on task as they hurled insults back and forth while somehow still getting their work done.

He laughed quietly to himself as he thought of the work he remembered. It was either the dead silence of the office while attending to vast amounts of paperwork, rushing non-stop to get teams coordinated and laying their plans out with barely minutes to spare, or dodging bullets in some remote god-forsaken place he would never again think of visiting.

The ding of the elevator made his head shoot up as he watched the doors slide open. To his relief, it was just Ben. The MI6 agent greeted him with a smile. "I bear some news from HQ."

"Good news, I hope?"

"Well, you have to look at it from an optimistic perspective." Before Alex could question what in hell he was talking about, Ben pushed forward, saying, "Smithers had an idea for retrieving some of your older memories, and he thought that Blunt could-"

"What does the head of MI6 want now?" Gibbs walked to stand beside his desk, having just returned from a rather uninteresting interrogation. Walker just stared into the distance, ignoring the world around him and refusing to respond to any sort of stimuli.

"It's more Smithers, our gadgetmaker," he clarified, "who was trying to make some things happen. He thought that if Blunt could send over some people Alex interacted with before, that some things might come back. He's sending one of Jack's favorite photo albums with them too."

"Thanks Ben, but who is he sending over exactly?"

Ben looked to a blank spot on the wall to his side. "Ah, I don't suppose you would remember K-Unit yet…"

Alex leaned forward in his chair to lightly rap his head against the desk over and over. "Of all the possible candidates," he complained.

"There weren't many others out there. Tamara Knight is on leave with her family and can't be reached until she returns to work in two weeks time. Tom Harris cannot be pulled out of school; that would be much too suspicious, even for MI6. James Sprintz—from Point Blanc—and Sabina Pleasure—in California—face the same problem. Really, Alex," he joked, "if you'd quit killing off your partners, there would be more people to look for when you get amnesiac on me."

To the surprise of the NCIS team, and even Ben, he snorted. "You can't complain when you aren't dead yet."

"But I _have_ to complain now! When I'm dead, you won't be able to hear me over all the dirt!"

"Hold your horses," Tony spoke up. "Who's this K-Unit?"

"SAS," Gibbs replied, beating the rest of them to the chase. "The Special Air Service gives their units letter names and all of their people have codenames. It's more impersonal that way."

Ben whistled. "Didn't know anyone else even realized what the SAS was anymore, but you've hit it on the head. K-Unit was our former unit."

"Your former unit," Alex clarified. "I only trained with you for ten days."

"Still counts."

"Does not."

"You've gone on missions with them though."

"I refuse to count the incident in Greece* a mission," he retorted.

"But you looked adorable, and besides, there was that time in Iran**."

"They weren't _technically_ partnered with me there. I was just getting their sorry butts out of the desert to pay back a favor."

"Sure, sure."

"Back to the point," Gibbs interrupted, knowing this could go on as long as some of Ducky's stories, "when will they be arriving? I'll have to pass it through Vance."

"I think their plane was leaving tonight, so tomorrow morning at the earliest."

"Oh good, it gives me time to mentally prepare," Alex sighed. He set his head on the desk as Ziva raised an eyebrow.

"I don't suppose there's a second reason for sending them over?"

Ben chuckled. "I was wondering who would catch on to that. Yes, Blunt figured it would be the only option when he happened to mention the situation to someone he thought might be able to pull of his own "operation". Blunt wouldn't be able to send over an SAS team to protect an agent, but Smithers could send them in through different methods. All spies have different connections, and Smithers has routes much on the opposite end of Blunt's."

"Are all of you spies as sneaky and underhanded as you make it sound?" Tony asked.

"Pretty much," Ben nodded as Alex said, "As far as I know."

Gibbs took careful notice that neither of the spies seemed to particularly like their agency, but respected them more than anything else. Although with one of them as the deputy head—which he still couldn't get over—it couldn't be against their wishes. These two worked for their agency willingly and likely not due to the pay.

"So has 'Lance Corporal Ryan' mentioned anything useful down in interrogation?" Ben asked. He had come in too late to catch the end of the fight.

Gibbs shook his head. "Everything we know about this man has come from Alex. He says that his real name is Walker and he worked for SCORPIA after defecting from the CIA."

The agent rubbed a finger against his jaw. "That would match up with records, and I knew I recognized him from somewhere." He turned his attention to Alex. "If it's Walker, he's only one of the newer recruits."

"Which means the older ones are going to be buried in high places. I know what you're getting at."

"You want us to look into the higher ranks," Ziva guessed, as the spies shook their heads.

"To find the best spies, I'd look into the high_est_ ranks and their spouses," the teenage spy suggested as his partner nodded his agreement. "Even if their records are spotless, any vacations to places near Italy need to be looked into. That tends to work as their base of operation, though they have done jobs through secondary bases in Russia, North Korea, Iran and South Africa as well."

"They hide well, and make sure their long term sleeper cells stay hidden in plain sight," Ben added.

"Basically," Gibbs summed up, "we have a nearly unlimited supply of suspects and nearly no way to identify them."

The spies nodded as the NCIS team realized the huge load they had taken on with this case.

"I am going to need a pay raise after this, boss," Tony complained. "I can already smell the overtime building up."

* * *

Vance, as Gibbs had preordained, was horrified by this plan. "Do you have any idea the kinds of messes this will cause? I don't care if your MI6 agents can pull in support of both the CIA and the FBI; the JCS*** will be taking my head off if they catch wind of your in-depth investigation into every one of their personal lives."

"Agent Rider," he switched to the formal use of Alex's name, "believes he can get them to back him up. He recalls meeting with the Vice Chairman at one point a few months back."

"Did he now." It was more a sentences than a question, as if he accepted that MI6 had already penetrated further than this terrorist group ever could. "Tell him that I will hand him use of a conference room if he can sort out this mess. He's going to have to convince both the JCS, which is nearly impossible on its own, as well as the DOD. If he can get the Secretary of Defense on his side, any questions pertaining to your actions can filter down through him."

"I have no doubt he has his connections, whether he remembers them or not," Gibbs assured his director. He walked out to the railing, sensing the dismissal in the wave of the director's hand, and called to the two MI6 agents. "The director says you can use conference room four if you can get the Department of Defense on your side."

Alex smiled back. "My middle name is diplomacy," he said, "along with subtlety, conniving, and luck." Gibbs could only shake his head at the devil he had released. No wonder this teenager was the deputy head of MI6; he was the worst of them.

Setting up the several large screens he could find and hooking them all up to support the webcam in the conference room with the assistance of their local techie, McGee, Alex shooed the rest of them from the room, including Ben. The agent shrugged when they asked how long this was going to take.

"Rome wasn't built in a day, and Alex likes to slide his way around the more difficult subjects to high ground. Blunt should've made him a politician, though admittedly I can't see his attitude fitting with the job."

"Then I can go home and take a nap to compensate for the enormous amounts of overtime we are going to be undertaking?" Tony asked, not sensing the incoming Gibbs-slap until the pain informed him of its arrival.

"It isn't overtime until you finish your regular work, Dinozzo."

"Sorry, boss. Always forget that."

True to Ben's word, Alex spent nearly the remainder of the day in conference room four, only to be seen walking back and forth from the men's room or grabbing a drink from the vending machines. Other than the brief encounters, it was as if he wasn't there.

Tony, while Gibbs was down consulting Abby, was attempting to listen in on the conversation with Ben, both of whom could hear next to nothing unless the shouting started up as the various people argued between themselves and Alex. From the voices, Ben could discern Blunt on one of the closer speakers and Tony thought he recognized SecNav further on the opposite end.

"I can't hear a thing," Tony complained.

"If they would speak up louder, it might be easier for us. There aren't any easily accessible vents leading into the room," Ben thought outloud, "and I know Alex would make sure that no one could tap into the conversation to listen in."

"So how else do we get in on their talk?"

McGee spoke up as one of the only two agents actually working. "You don't. The boss said he'll be back in a minute, so shouldn't you at least pretend to be doing something useful?"

"This is useful, probie. I am simply ensuring that our side is winning the verbal onslaught that would appear to be going on behind closed doors," Tony retorted.

"McGee's got a point," Tony cringed as he was caught in the act once again and the Gibbs-slap knocked some sense into him, "but Abby has something for us."

The gothic forensics analyzer beamed as she put her data up on the screen. "According to the requested info MI6 specialists have been sending me, there is one connection between most SCORPIA agents: their training on either Malagosto, near Venice, or Jeongal Haean****, a hundred miles of the coast of North Korea. I was looking for something that would make it easy to identify whether they had visited either of these two islands, and discovered _this_." She pulled up her results on the screen, to which no one replied.

"Umm, you do realize we are looking at a flower, right Abby?" McGee asked.

"_Wrong_. This isn't just a flower, this is the _veleno_ flower that I mentioned was in the ink of our dead man's tattoo. It is the only true black flower in the world, according to botanists, and is found in only three places." A map came on screen, and red points covered three spots in specific. "Just off the coasts of the Koreas, Brazil and Italy. Not only that, but just being in range of this plant will leave small black spores on your skin for quite awhile afterwards. The spores can adhere for as long as an entire year, and leave evidence lasting up to a year after that."

"Good work, Abbs." A Caf-POW! appeared in his hand from thin air, to which she kissed him on the top of his head and accepted the offering. "Dinozzo, once you get the okay from Alex, start looking for anyone higher up who might have visited anywhere close to where Abby mentioned or has any unexplained absences in the slightest."

"Yes, boss. I already have a list of the authorized ones printing off."

"Keep it up. McGee, narrow down the list by looking through all phone records, credit card bills, internet contacts, etc."

"Already on it, boss."

"Ziva, work with Dinozzo. There is going to be a lengthy list."

"Aye, aye sir."

Gibbs himself was looking into the limited historical report that MI6 had sent over through Abby, who had asked for it to assist in her research of the native and nearby fauna. Everything collected into the report was a blend of facts and well-supported theories, with some of the rest a bunch of guesswork.

Alex emerged from the conference room with bags under his eyes and a victorious expression on his face just after ten that evening. "SecDef says we can proceed," he grinned wearily, "as long as he stays informed."

* * *

A/N: Sorry about this long wait between posts, but due to a mix of school and illness, I haven't been able to find any time to finish part 6 until 3am today. I don't know when part 7 will be up, but it shouldn't take nearly as long. At worst, a week.

I thought this chapter was really short, but I had to cut it off somewhere. K-Unit comes in soon, and that makes me excited to write the next part!

* This refers to an incident in _Coincidences_, and I couldn't help but include it. ^_^

** This one was in _Favor_.

*** JCS stands for the Joint Chiefs of Staff…the group of military leaders advising the civilian government of the US (according to Wikipedia). In other countries, they are known as the COSC, or Chiefs of Staff Committee.

**** I didn't think that SCORPIA would be stupid enough to have all their trainees come out of one area, in case a group of intelligence agencies finally decided to be rid of them. Thus, I made up another training camp similar in workings whose name means _scorpion coast_.


	7. Chapter 7

Part seven of _Those Who Wander_. Sorry about the long hiatus. ~ SamayouTamashi

* * *

Ben glanced down at his watch and then over at the teenager motionless against the wall beside Gibbs' desk, head slumped over and eyes closed in a peaceful sleep; peaceful, if you didn't notice the minute twitches in his fingers and the occasional sharp intakes of breath.

He needed to pick K-Unit up from the airport when they landed at about noon. It would only take twenty minutes to get to Reagan*, but apparently the flight was coming in early. NCIS would have to look over Alex while he ran over to fetch his former team.

Throwing on his jacket and checking the gun, wallet and cell phone clipped to his belt, Ben ruffled his partner's hair as he headed for the elevator. From his pocket, he pulled out the badges the director had given him for K-Unit. They were proof that they were visitors for the assigned week, or until MI6 thought that Alex was fine on his own without the extra assistance.

By this time, Tony was joining the spy in dreamland. McGee was fighting to stay awake and Ziva was on her fourteenth cup of coffee. Alex had actually been alert until he leaned against the wall and nodded off about a half an hour ago. Nearly thirty-six hours of straight work was beginning to take its toll on everyone except the naturally hyper Abby with her seemingly endless supplies of Caf-POW! and Gibbs. Vance had gone home once Alex had finished his work in the conference room to return at seven the next morning.

Passing Gibbs, Ben nodded to him before stepping into the elevator and passed a piece of knowledge along. "If you try to wake him up, make sure you aren't in the line of fire."

The special agent said nothing, raising an eyebrow, but mentally taking note not to wake Alex up without a death wish. "I'll watch over him until you get back, Daniels."

Ben paused as he pressed the button, but slowly made himself relax. "You noticed?"

"You act like his mother, not his partner, when his attention isn't focused on you. Every time the two of you react to the smallest things, like the ding of the elevator or someone walking faster than normal, he reaches for his gun and you move closer to protect him."

The spy bent his head in shame. "I was really that obvious?"

"No," Gibbs drank from his coffee, "but the observations accumulated over time and patterns became evident. I don't think Alex knows, though."

"Good. He doesn't want anyone else to die for him, and he tends to avoid anything that smells like friendship. K-Unit and I are as close as it gets: comrades." He stepped into the elevator, but held the door open with an arm. "I wish…I wish he could be a teenager again. Maybe being outside of danger with your team will let him feel some of what he's lost being a spy. I never could give him that."

He let go of the door, and it was about to close until Gibbs put a hand in. "You did what you could. In my eyes, that's all that matters."

Ben let a small smile show through before the steel doors came between them.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, as Dinozzo was giving his report on the numbers traced through "Lieutenant Rodriguez's" cellular, Ben re-entered the room with a group of four men. They had dressed for the weather in London, not that of D.C. While England was in its typical semi-chilly climate, the eastern states were in a temporary temperature spike, thus making the jackets somewhat uncomfortable in the heat wave. The four, K-Unit, were looking around curiously as Ben prodded them in the right direction.

Gibbs ignored the group until Dinozzo had finished off with the information, basically winding down by saying that all of the important numbers couldn't be traced. It was likely they had been burn phones that were thrown away after one or two uses. McGee verified that all trace attempts had repeatedly failed. Once he was sure there was nothing else to be taken from the phone, he turned to Ben. "I take it this is K-Unit?"

The man to Ben's immediate left nodded. The badge on the front of his jacket was one of the ones from the director, though there was no form of identification marking his name anywhere. He answered Gibbs's question with a nod of his head. "I'm Wolf, leader of K-Unit. I'm told that we were prodded over here by MI6 for some simple stuff while Falcon's healing. Something to do with temporary work for the CIA."

Gibbs looked over at the smallest in the unit, evidently Falcon, who was leaning ever so slightly on his crutches. His leg was encased in a protective mold, though it looked smaller than if the injury had been more recent. "I'm Gibbs, head of this NCIS team."

"And don't worry about keeping anything from us," Tony grinned. "The spies have pretty much told us everything already."

Wolf looked at Ben. "Spies, as in more than one? I think I'm missing something."

The spy shifted in his spot. "So MI6 didn't give you guys any info?"

"Do they ever?"

"Course not, but I didn't think they'd leave it all for me to do."

Alex took that moment to yawn from behind Gibbs' desk and stand up to fall back into his chair. "What'd I miss?"

Ben swiveled over to hiss, "You could've _waited_."

"For wha- Oh." Alex's eyes met Wolf's and he blinked. "I'm going back to sleep."

Wolf immediately turned back to Ben. "I'm sorry but what are we doing guarding _him_? _He_ should be guarding _us_ from the aftermath of whatever you two have gotten into this time."

"Heh." The spy was really nervous now. Ziva, Tony and McGee were watching the drama unfold as Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Well, there was an incident…"

"That could describe just about anything, Fox. Seriously though, what has MI6 dragged us over here for? Maybe they mixed up some orders in processing."

"Blunt believes I may be incapable of doing anything myself right now," Alex sighed, trying to end their arguing. "I'm apparently having trouble with some minor memory loss."

"_Minor memory loss_? You mean full blown _amnesia_. He couldn't even remember his own _name_, much less anything else," Ben frowned.

"That was only for a little while. I got most of it back."

"Wait, wait, wait," another one of K-Unit addressed all three of them, a faint Scottish brogue evident in his voice. "Amnesia? I'd like to know how that happened."

Gibbs answered to spare the hassle of another debate between the spies, "We don't know yet, but our psychologist is assuming shock."

The man raised an eyebrow. "I can hardly believe that. I've seen him pull through with practically dying, and he looks fine to me."

Alex sighed and sat back down against the wall, before Abby appeared by his side, also crouching down. "What's going on here?" she mock whispered.

"My former unit," he gestured at K-Unit while still remaining hidden. "Apparently MI6 sent them to watch over me until I'm completely better."

"Ooo, sounds like fun. So why are we hiding?"

"Keeps us out of the death match that's sure to happen right about now and out of the blood splatter radius."

Gibbs, however, managed to keep the blood to a minimum by slapping them both over the back of the head. "Some of us," he said quietly in an ominous tone reserved normally for Tony, "are trying to work."

"Score for team Gibbs," Alex murmured.

"Alex, you too. Tell us who we have on our side in the JCS and DOD."

He sighed, standing up, as he grabbed two sticky notes from the wall. Mostly it consisted of notes on the various Joint Chiefs of Staff, SecDef, and a few others sitting in. "It turns out that SecDef has been aware of some various ongoings in MI6 for quite some time, so it was more a matter of getting the JCS to understand the situation. Luckily for us, their current chairman and vice chairman are navy and marines, in that order, and have both been monitoring the situation. The chairman didn't have a hard time convincing the rest of the board, and even then, the only one who had to be convinced was the Chief of Staff of the Army.**

"With a little help from my links in the UCC USSOCOM***, the Secretary of Defense has given NCIS free reign into just about all records pertaining to the armed forces. He said if anyone complains, send them his way."

"Damn," Tony whistled. "You really do have people up there."

"Doesn't help that the CSA is still touchy about all of this, so I would advise walking carefully around him until he simmers down. Reimer**** isn't convinced that any sort of terrorist group could have penetrated the US armed forces," he muttered in response, "but then he's always had a bit of a temper on him."

Wolf seemed to have forgotten his irritation towards the spies. "If Special Operations is in on your scheming, you shouldn't have problems getting around Reimer."

"I certainly hope so," the spy replied. "He doesn't like foreign agents muddling around in US intelligence."

"Don't tell me you hired yourself out to the CIA again?"

"And FBI. They were working together on this one."

"The world must be ending," Tony added. "They _never_ get along."

Gibbs quieted all of them with a wave of his hand to get back on topic. "So we have clearance?"

"Yep. Straight from the top."

"McGee," he pointed at the techie, who immediately began a search on every armed forces person currently on duty. "If you hit any blocks, call up SecNav. He'll get any extra permissions you need."

"On it, boss." His fingers were back to running over the keyboard in front of him, immersing himself in the computer systems and getting through the previous barriers nullified by the temporary truce with SecDef.

The special agent then looked over the K-Unit members. "So what are you four supposed to be doing here?"

Wolf huffed. "Baby-sitting princess, I mean Alex.*" He ducked as a sharp and well-aimed pencil flew dangerously close to his head. "Damn, you remembered Greece."

Alex was sharpening another pencil with an evil glint in his eye. "You refer to that incident again, and this one won't miss."

"Don't mind them," another of K-Unit informed Gibbs's team. "Ever since training, they can't be in the same room together unless their shooting someone. Once you give them something to do, Wolf and Cub should get off each other's throats."

"And you are?" Ziva asked.

"Eagle," he grinned. "I'm the weapons specialist. Snake," he pointed to the one who'd asked about Alex's amnesia, "is our medic and Falcon, the one on the crutches, is our sniper and translator."

"So how do you know Alex?" she asked, trying to figure out how a spy would be partnered with an SAS team. Tony leaned in, just as curious.

"It's really complicated." He was watching the Alex vs. Wolf match ensue as Ben filled Gibbs in on what exactly K-Unit would be allowed to do while they were in the States. "MI6 sent him to train with us for a little over a week about a year and a half ago while Fox was still in our unit. None of us really got along with him, but we kept seeing him on missions and eventually got stuck together. Somehow, we got to know each other."

"Almost two years ago…" Ziva mentally calculated. "He was fourteen?"

"Something like that. We didn't realize that while he was there, though." Eagle looked thoughtful. "Actually, we figured he was more like sixteen or seventeen until Fox told us otherwise."

"Fox?"

"Ben. We still call him by his codename even though he was recruited by MI6. Habit, I guess."

McGee's computer beeped, interrupting all of their conversations/battles. "Boss, I've got a hit already. He's supposed to have shown up for duty today, but was reported missing when his team couldn't find him this morning."

"Put it on screen."

The soldier's records, all the way back to high school, and picture came up. "Technical Sergeant Nathaniel Caleb Williamson. He was on a regular trip to a base in Egypt when he went completely off the grid. The team he was heading reported nothing unusual in his behavior yesterday or in the previous days."

"That's less than a day from Malagosto," Abby commented, and Gibbs nodded his agreement. "Any others?"

"Yeah. Ensign Isabella Faites Waters," a second set of documents popped up on screen, "disappeared from the USS Hydra late last night. The crew said nearly the same thing as Williamson's team. She just vanished from her quarters overnight."

"Where was the USS Hydra at the time?"

"Just off the coast of Venice. They haven't left port since then, and her teammates are still looking for her. A connection?"

"I doubt it's just a coincidence, probie," Tony scoffed.

"There are other reports coming in," McGee told Gibbs, ignoring Dinozzo. "Many ships and units posted near the Mediterranean are just sending in missing reports. The navy and marines alone have lost a hundred between them. I have to dive a little further to find the air force and army's reports, but I'd guess they have a similar amount."

"That would be around two hundred so far. Could one organization have that many sleeper cells?"

"For SCORPIA, I wouldn't doubt that," Alex mused. "Look for reports around North Korea as well. They have a base somewhere off the coast there too."

"If they're pulling all of their people out, then what have they accomplished?" Ben asked. "It seems kind of pointless for them to show all their cards to us after all their planning."

"Unless it's an intimidation tactic," Gibbs provided. "They want us to know that they can infiltrate our military as some sort of warning."

"Or it's a distraction." Alex leaned back in his chair. "With the mass evacuation of their 'sleeper cells', it's entirely possible that SCORPIA wants us looking at Malagosto while they work elsewhere. Thus, I think we need to be looking where they don't want us to be."

"Internally. They have something planned on US soil. Problems in the Mediterranean would certainly divert attention."

Wolf rested his forearms across one of the dividers surrounding the group's cubicle. "So we get to have a bigger role than baby-sitting?"

Falcon leaned against the wall. "Sounds like fun."

"And here you said that being handicapped was boring," Eagle grinned, nudging him with an elbow as Falcon slapped him back.

"What kind of jurisdiction does SAS have within US borders?" Tony asked Ben.

"They wouldn't have any, except K-Unit is being temporarily borrowed by Alex, and therefore anything they do falls under jurisdiction of the CIA and FBI."

"Basically, we get the same boundaries as if we were working for SAS in England," Snake spoke up.

Gibbs' phone rang and he picked it up, listening for a second then nodding his head, saying, "I'll be down there in a second." He hung up and turned to his team, plus the two spies and K-Unit. "Walker's opening up. He wants to talk about a possible arrangement."

* * *

A/N: I know I was going to post ASAP, but this was really the soonest I could finish this chapter. It's been sitting half-written on my computer since last week, but I had to finish my work in my AR arc first. I'm going to try and finish this crossover before getting my arc's finale posted, if my reviewers don't kill me for the way I ended _Poison_… If I never finish this, it's because one of them finally managed to locate my house. ^_^

*Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport is indeed only thirteen to fifteen minutes (with no traffic) from the Washington Naval Yard (where NCIS is headquartered). The beauty of Google maps is that I can figure out all of this in mere seconds.

** I think I've explained this before, but JCS is the Joint Chiefs of Staff and SecDef is the Secretary of Defense. If you got to Wikipedia, it explains a lot about both of them. DOD is the Department of Defense.

*** Unified Combatant Command(s) United States Special Operations Command. This is harder to explain. Basically, it is an effort through multiple services that goes towards a single effort. In USSOCOM, it specifically covers all espionage efforts and most anti-terrorism/unconventional warfare affairs. When not working as a UCC with other groups, it becomes many individual SOFs (Special Operations Forces) with independent operations. The Rangers, Green Berets (Special Forces) SEALs and Delta Force are the most well-known parts of the USSOCOM.

**** Reimer is not the current Chief of Staff of the Army. That would be George W. Casey, Jr. However, I figured it would be safer to avoid using any current names, so I used a former CSA's name instead: Dennis J. Reamer (1995-99). I have no clue how he would actually have responded to this threat, so any of his actions in this fanfic don't portray his actual opinions/actions.

* This goes back to _Coincidences_.


	8. Chapter 8

Part eight of _Those Who Wander_. ~ SamayouTamashi

* * *

"So, Walker is it?"

The man hadn't twitched a muscle since Gibbs' arrival barely a minute ago, staring straight ahead with blank eyes and a smooth, uncaring poker face.

Gibbs on the other hand didn't look even the slightest bit frustrated by the silence settling in the steel grey interrogation room. He had his hands steepled in front of him as he coolly scanned the sheets of paper by his arm, the very definition of patience.

Another minute later, and a quiet voice asked, "Why am I here?"

The NCIS agents, Tony and Ziva, standing behind the one-way mirror each blinked. "Well it took long enough," Ziva commented.

"Figured he'd just dragged us down here to sit and drool in our seats for the next hour," Tony grumbled under his breath.

Alex rolled his eyes at the two. "He was just taking stock of everything around him, making sure we hadn't left any method for him to escape, before he actually got down to talking."

Tony blinked again. "Didn't look like that to me. He was just staring off into space."

"Yeah, that's because that's what he _wanted_ you to see," the spy snorted. "If you use your peripheral vision instead of flicking your head around and leave your face blank, most people don't guess what you're doing. Common trick of the trade," he added as Tony gave a look clearly asking how he knew about this.

"Been in interrogation before, Alex?"

"Never ones nearly this nice."

Ziva and Tony exchanged a look, before turning their attention back to the room.

"You are here," Gibbs shuffled the papers into a neat stack, pulling out the second one, "because your records say you have disappeared from the base you should have been stationed at."

Walker leaned back in his chair, balancing it on the two back legs. "Don't play with me. I saw Rider in the hallway, and he doubtlessly informed you of the situation. Why am I _here_ and not being shipped down to Guantánamo*?"

"I was informed by one of the guards that you would like to exchange some information?"

The assassin sighed. "Seeing as how I'd rather not get stuck in confinement for the rest of my life, yes. There's only so much I can pass around, but how can I help you?"

Alex crossed his arms, frowning as lines marred his forehead. Deep in thought, he watched the proceedings.

"What is SCORPIA doing in the States."

"Now, you know I couldn't answer something so blunt without having my own organization sending their dogs after me." A smirk flashed across his face so fast that it was barely visible. "Try something along the lines of 'Where are they buried?'"

"Where is _what_ buried?" Gibbs asked, collecting his patience and attempting not to grit his teeth.

"Oh that's far too obvious. And here I thought you would have scanned me for radiation the second I walked through the door."

Bringing up as many memories as he could currently remember connected to his work in the last two years as a spy, Alex connected enough of the dots to get a view of the picture. He rapped on the window, getting Gibbs's attention. Tony and Ziva froze. You do _not_ interrupt the boss in interrogation unless you're suicidal.

Gibbs, however, seemed to know who was doing the tapping, and he took the stack of papers to the door with him. As he closed the door to the room, he opened the neighboring one to the small observation area. "Alex, I assume that was you?"

He nodded. "I need three minutes with him."

"You think you can do my job better than me?"

Ziva's complexion appeared to have been drained of blood, and Tony was on the verge of running in fear.

"No, but I think that there are certain regulations you have to follow according to your government that my position would allow me to get away with," he responded in a silky, reassuring tone, as if to calm a screaming child.

Tony's jaw dropped, and he decided that the best way to escape the room alive would be to make a break for it. He made it calmly to the door, before Gibbs responded with a small laugh.

"I figured as much, but I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to shy off. You have dealt with SCORPIA more, either way."

Letting out a breath, Tony returned to his seat as Ziva was still frozen in shock. "I could've sworn that they were going to start shooting for a moment there," she said slowly.

"I figured lightning was going to come down and destroy everything in here," he agreed. "Somehow, I think we just survived a near apocalypse."

Alex nodded at his 'opponent', leaving to re-enter interrogation. Tony stood up to hand his seat over, but Gibbs waved him off. "I'm not that old yet, Dinozzo." The agent was going to point out that he was still twice his age, but thinking better of it, he sat back down.

Walker actually smiled as the spy opened the door, closing it behind him and letting his hand linger on the knob for a second too long. "So we meet again. It's been, what, a year?"

"Just a few hours, really."

"Going at each other's throats doesn't count as 'meeting', though."

Alex shrugged. "All in the point of view. Now, I'd like the locations of SCORPIA's dirty bombs, the ones you and the other trainees helped smuggle in."

A grin met his statement. "You really are quite the spy. Anything else you'd know?"

"There are four locations, probably in the biggest cities: New York, Los Angeles, Chicago and Houston. The States have played a large role in counter-terrorism efforts, so either SCORPIA is being hired out or they're worried that the US is getting too close to their strongholds in Italy and North Korea."

"So close, but it's Washington, D.C., not Houston. The other three were spot on, though."

"Enough small talk. Who has them, and where are they?"

Walker held up his hands in defeat. "That's all my employers told me. I helped get one to D.C. with a couple buddies, including the one you shot, but otherwise it was left in the hands of someone else. Unlike you, Rider, I haven't gotten any higher than newbie in my division. These details aren't entrusted to me."

"Uh-huh." He stood up and released a breath. From his pocket, he took out a plain yellow pencil with the familiar '2' stamped in black on the end. Down the center, however, a logo was emblazoned on the side: a snake with lightning bolts crossed behind it. Putting his leg up on the metal chair, he snapped it in half.

Nothing seemed to happen, until the cameras crackled in protest.

"My friends at NCIS have kindly turned off their recording devices, but I wanted to make sure you weren't broadcasting your location," Alex explained. "Any other bugs, listening devices, and even credit cards have just been wiped. Nothing you say will leave this room."

"Your friends behind the glass?"

"Won't say a thing."

The assassin copied Gibbs' previous gesture, leaning forward with his fingers steepled in front of him. "And why do you think I have anything else to say? You had the same training as I did in SCORPIA, and there were millions of classes on reading faces for the truth. I've told nothing but the truth."

Alex sighed, before crossing to stand beside Walker, who arched an eyebrow. "You really aren't tall enough to intimidate me that way."

Suddenly a hand was around the assassin's throat as the spy slammed him into the closest wall. "I may not be tall," he spoke softly and deliberately, "but I've been told that I'm more intimidating than most people when I work at it."

Walker had evidently run out of snarky comments, favoring silence again.

The hand didn't loosen at his neck. "Now, I know you have been truthful. That's quite obvious. What you are doing is evading the point. You were formerly CIA, and incredibly talented from what I've heard, with curiosity ten times greater than that of any cat. While your employers may have kept some things from you, you likely found and kept track of all the going-ons, even if you weren't supposed to know about them.

"I ask again, _where are the bombs_?"

Gripping the hand cutting off his air, Walker made a short gesture, asking to be let go. Alex released him, letting his body collapse to the floor as he gasped for air. "Lord have mercy, kid. You must have quite the handshake," he rasped, seeing stars in front of his eyes as blood rushed back into his head. "My notes are in the bag they took off me when I was brought in."

"And the code breaker?"

He grimaced. "Damn you're sharp. I used a basic rune code and made it appear Japanese by adding lines and lines of real Japanese into it." As he rolled up the bottom of his pants and reached for the base of his shoe, he added as Alex reached for the gun hidden beneath his shirt, "I stored the code in a compartment inside my left shoe. Seriously." The spy relaxed, but his hand remained hovering over the holster. Pressing against a hidden switch, a small metal door released, dropping a slip of paper on to the hard floor. Walker handed it over to Alex. "This is the only copy. Please don't damage it."

Alex's eyes flicked over the small slip of notebook paper. Satisfied, he nodded. "What do you want in exchange for this?"

Walker felt his face reveal his surprise. "You're holding to your side of the bargain?"

He shrugged. "My uncle and housekeeper both raised me to follow a certain amount of morals. Breaking promises was always discouraged, and I have no intentions of ever doing so."

The assassin sat back in the chair, rubbing at the bruising on his throat. "Strange morals."

"Let's get on with this."

"Well if you could manage it… I'd like to be convicted of some smaller crime in no way related to terrorism but still high enough to keep me in a good amount of security for a couple years. You know, make SCORPIA think you caught me on the murder charge and that was it. If they don't think I revealed anything to you, I might get off scotch-free."

Alex continued standing off to the side, thinking out the request. "You know that SCORPIA won't fall for this, right? They would connect things almost instantly. I wouldn't doubt that they've already dubbed you as suspicious, keeping you from elevating in rank."

"What can a guy do? I'm already damned, might as well get a few years in peace, even if it is jail." A strange glint was in his eye and one of his hands flicked imaginary dust off his jacket.

The spy thought of calling him out**, but recalled the NCIS agents behind the glass. Even with the cameras off, they would still be compelled to follow the law.

"Best of luck to you," he sighed resignedly. "Pull up your collar to cover the bruises. The cameras will come back on after I leave and someone should escort you to a temporary cell later on." Picking up the end of the pencil he had previously broken, he twisted the eraser off. Holding it delicately between two fingers, he blew a grey dust into the air, re-enabling any electronic devices by mixing with the substance already in the room to neutralize its effects.

He emerged into the hallway to greet the startled expressions of Tony and Ziva.

"What the hell were you-?"

"Did you really just-?"

Gibbs clapped them both on the shoulder. "Nothing happened, so we don't need to mention anything. Clear?"

The two nodded, but still threw glances at him.

Alex ignored them, regarding Gibbs. "You heard his request, right?"

"Yes, but why would he willingly go to prison for any amount of time? SCORPIA doesn't seem like they take kindly to those who rat out on them."

"They don't, but for whatever reason, they don't touch people in jail. They do all their work in the shadows, and hitting a man in prison would be too public for their taste. Until he gets out, he should be in for a peaceful couple of years."

"And after that?"

"He's on his own. We'll hold up the deal, and he can't complain once he's released." Somehow, Gibbs could tell that there was something else keeping the assassin safe that Alex had knowledge of, but he let it go. Back to the point…

"The bag should be down with Abby along with the rest of the evidence. Ducky can measure the radiation still lingering on this Walker to give us an idea of how much protection we'll need when getting the bombs." He stopped, thinking how to express his next thought.

"I know," Alex said in response to the unsaid words, "but I wouldn't have killed him. I've killed people, but I'm not quite so cold as to strangle someone to death. That takes a whole other level of cruelty. Walker was never in any danger from the start."

Gibbs took a deep breath, but nodded. "I meant to ask, will the cameras work once I turn them back on?"

Grinning, he said, "The dust in the eraser neutralizes the one messing with technology. Your cameras are fine. You know…" he trailed off. When Gibbs raised an eyebrow, he shook his head. "Just a fleeting thought. Nothing important. How long should it take Abby to finish decoding the papers?"

"This _is_ Abby we're talking about. Once McGee finishes his work, I'll send him down to speed up the process. No more than a couple hours at most, if we haven't been fooled."

"He's not. Prison will be a better opportunity for him than the free world at this moment," he added wryly. "Walker won't do anything to break that promise."

* * *

A/N: Yeah, sure. Walker would _never_ do anything along those lines… On another note, I have finals coming up this Tuesday and Wednesday, and this weekend I have _tons_ of studying to do. ***sigh*** So the next update might be awhile in coming. Due to that, I sped up this one to get it done before I'd be too preoccupied with schoolwork.

On yet another note, I drew a fire-breathing moose.

But back to important topics, I need to go take a shower. Tell me how you liked this chapter and sorry for any OOC peoples. Blame school. And the moose. They distract me. ***glares*** Review! I live on them!

* Guantánamo Bay is a holding prison for suspected terrorists, most specifically connected to the Iraq/Afghanistan war. There was talk of it being closed by the UN, but I believe that some bills were signed to keep it open. I have found no evidence to prove that terrorists from other sources, outside the Iraq/Afghanistan war, have not been held there. Correct me if I'm wrong (as I may well be).

** If you haven't caught on yet, this'll come back to inform you of what Alex caught on to. ***wink** **wink***

**Another note added at the last moment, my heart goes out to all of you in Japan and areas effected by this disastrous weather. The news reports are just heart-breaking, imagining people out there unable to get out. So for those of you in the path of the tsunami and earthquakes, I'm thinking of you!**


	9. Chapter 9

Part nine and the finale of _Those Who Wander_. Sorry for the wait. I remade the last three thousand words at least a hundred times before they felt right. Hope that this is good enough to make up for my long absence. As always, review! ~ SamayouTamashi

* * *

Alex watched from his seat by Gibbs' chair as the team scurried around, coordinating the counterstrikes in three other states and their own city, vaguely wondering if this was the wrap-up for his mission in the States.

Abby Sciuto had decrypted the two binders full of notes by hand alongside Eagle, who turned out to be an incredibly fast code breaker. The duo was finished within five hours, bursting from the elevator with vigor and triumph in their eyes. Since then, it had been all hustle and bustle with few breaks to even sit down.

A couple minutes ago, he'd been corresponding with the Secretary of Defense, making sure all strikes were passed through his office. With his go, there would be fewer problems with debate on the plans.

The NCIS team in Los Angeles* had negated the dilemma in the city. With the correct coordinates and warnings to bring in heavy firepower while still staying under the radar, they had reported success half an hour ago. The bomb in Chicago had just been dismantled, but in Houston, the FBI was encountering problems with SCORPIA. Apparently the notice to bring lots of guns hadn't helped; the enemy evidently had come prepared for such a siege.

In D.C., the siege was just getting underway. Gibbs had retreated to MTAC to help lead the effort, leaving the rest of his team with orders to assist the other cities with their own problems. Wolf had volunteered to be a part of the team going to retrieve the dirty bomb, and while they had turned down his request at first, Gibbs caved in when he mentioned that he had worked briefly as an EOD** before going into SAS. Fox, bored of sitting around***, had accompanied him.

All of which left Alex with nothing to do. Gibbs had assured him that the rest was all easy enough and not to worry about it. The spy was, of course, doing exactly that. Worrying.

He knew perfectly well that these people knew just what they were doing, and they were some of the best, but he couldn't help worry that he could be doing something to help. Ziva had hesitantly offered to spar with him again, but he had turned her down. Fighting would only increase his stress, not release it.

Standing up to get the blood flowing in his legs again, he walked over to the restrooms, turning once he was relatively sure no one was watching, and quietly taking the stairs up to MTAC. Assuming, based on the general lack of messages being sent into the room, that most of the information was being passed around where only certain ears would be privy to it, he pulled an iPod from his pocket.

NCIS had taken most of his possessions down to Abby when he'd been 'arrested', and she had kindly given all of it back, including the plethora of weapons found on his person.

Like any good spy, however, his trust had been placed mostly in the 'everyday' objects, such as the pencil used in interrogation. Among his gadgets was his personal favorite: the iPod. Made on short notice, Smithers hadn't been able to give it a nickname.

The iPod was made in two parts. The first worked like a regular music player, able to download all sorts of music, movies and games on to 8 gigabytes of space. Typical iPod. The mainframe, however, had been altered to pick up sounds from behind steel doors and up to three hundred feet away. It could intercept radio signals without knowing which frequencies to look on, be used as an x-ray, and detect the smallest amounts of radiation within a fifteen foot radius. Most importantly, there was a GPS system he could activate that would send an alarm and his current location straight to Blunt and Ben's phones.

Flicking a couple buttons on the top to open up the mainframe, Alex switched it over to the listening device. He disconnected a nearly invisible piece clipped into the back of the silver frame, taking out a tiny metal ring and fitting it around a screw holding the doorknob in place. Putting his earbuds in, he strolled back down the stairs, diving around the dividers to make it appear as if he had just come from the bathroom. Tony and Ziva weren't even suspicious.

He turned the sound up and returned to idly fiddling with a paperclip. For the most part, it sounded evident that SCORPIA's dirty bombs were going to be rounded up quickly. The problems in Houston seemed to have been fixed with some gas bombs and a dozen well-placed snipers. Their bomb squad had earned its pay once more.

What caught his attention, however, was the situation in D.C... or the lack thereof.

The team sent in by Gibbs had uncovered the bomb exactly where Walker's notes had placed it, down to the millimeter. Luckily for the team, the bomb hadn't even been programmed yet. In fact, the SCORPIA agents hadn't even gotten the chance to finish assembling it. Director Vance was keeping the team on their toes, suspicious of their turn in luck and waiting for the rest of the trap to clamp down on them.

The most surprising part was that Chicago and Houston had all seen minimal injuries while exchanging fire, with only two casualties in Houston, before being able to disengage the bombs. Even Los Angeles, who had gotten it easy, had still had to deal with SCORPIA.

According to the data he was getting from MTAC, the only SCORPIA agents discovered in the warehouse in D.C. were the technicians constructing the explosive. Their only weapons had been a handful of basic handguns.

So where was the firepower that should have been there?

Alex removed one of his earbuds, standing up and stretching before telling the two NCIS agents that he was going to take Abby up on her offer to borrow her floor for a little well-needed rest. Tony nodded sympathetically, knowing the cost of overtime, but Ziva looked unconvinced. Adding a yawn, that wasn't completely fake, he waved at them before pressing the elevator buttons to take him to the basement.

Except it wasn't Abby's subterranean lab he was going to. He strode right past it to the carefully guarded holding cells just beyond Ducky's autopsy room.

* * *

Ziva stared suspiciously after the teenager's retreating back. "There is something down with him," she informed Tony.

"Up," he patiently corrected. Despite all her brilliance, the former Mussad agent just didn't understand figures of speech. "There's something _up_ with him."

"Then we agree." As usual, she didn't even note the difference. "Alex is a spy. For all we know, he might not even be on our side."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "He's also, like, fifteen. While he might be a spy, who works for MI6 and had some amnesia, it's not like he's Bourne.****"

This was lost on Ziva, who had never seen the 'classics'. "How do we know he hasn't bugged all of our computers? We don't really know him at all, and he may have defected from MI6 at some point. He had training from SCORPIA, after all. He could have gone back to working for them."

"He's _fifteen_." Tony stressed. "Besides, he doesn't look like the cold-blooded murdering type."

Before Ziva could retort, McGee spoke up from where he had been hard at work. "Guys, I was watching all the surveillance cameras on Walker's cell, like Gibbs told me to, and I think I've found an anomaly in the feeds."

"Speak in English for the rest of us, probie."

"Someone's put the cameras on a loop, so what we're seeing isn't actually what's going on."

Ziva grabbed her gun from the top drawer of her desk, loading it as she walked in the direction of the elevator. "I will fix the problem."

"You mean torture and kill the problem," Tony protested, getting up to join her. "I'm going with you."

"Sit down, Dinozzo." The Gibbs slap sent a dozen more brain cells to their premature deaths. "Finish the preliminary work for the transportation order of the SCORPIA assassin we have in our basement or you will never get to it." Before he could respond with a 'Yes, sir', the elevator doors had closed between them. He sat back in his chair.

"The intruder doesn't stand a chance in hell against the two of them," McGee noted.

Tony nodded his agreement. "I only hope he survives."

* * *

Alex had put the cameras on a loop to buy himself some time, though he knew that someone watching the feeds carefully enough would notice quickly. He'd asked the guard to wait at the door outside, saying that Director Vance had asked him to further interrogate the prisoner. When the guard, who was surprisingly diligent and less apt to snap judgments unlike many he had met on previous engagements, asked for his identification, he showed him the badge hanging around his neck that labeled him as a visitor. However it wasn't _his_ badge that he had provided, but the one he had 'borrowed' from Ben before the spy had snuck out to join the action. They looked similar enough in the fuzzy pictures either way. The guard had quickly stepped aside.

Inside his cell, Walker had been silently contemplating the ceiling with a look of utter disinterest. As the spy waltzed through the door, his look didn't change in the slightest.

"What is SCORPIA really doing in the States."

A gleam of interest alit in the assassin's eyes. "Why would you ask that? I already informed you about the dirty bombs. All four of them in fact, which was quite nice of me, I have to say."

"I know that the dirty bombs are a cover op for something else. There haven't been nearly enough deaths for the bombs to have been their main mission, and you gave all that information up much too easily for someone as skilled as yourself."

"You would have been a great teammate," Walker mused. "I was wondering when you would catch on that something was up, but tell me first: What set you off? Just curious."

"In D.C., the bomb hadn't even been put together fully and the only ones there were the basic technicians. In any standard op, there would have been at least some form of skilled team to cover the ones doing the work to both reinforce their cover and keep an extra eye out for advance warnings."

"Well, with my curiosity satiated, I guess I could leak a couple unimportant tidbits come to your attention."

Alex sighed and crouched down to look him in the eye. The former CIA agent was always one for making things difficult, even when he was being straight with you. "Yes?"

"One of these tidbits might mention the problems in the Middle East, or specifically Egypt."

"Mmhmm."

"The Egyptians' issues with their current president might come into play."

He gave an impatient wave of the hand, but Walker couldn't be bothered by it.

"What you might not realize is something that has been kept out of the media as much as possible."

"And that would be…?"

"That the Egyptian president is coming to D.C. to go over some, shall we say, _treaties _with the president of the U.S.*"

Alex's right eyebrow shot up. "Is that a problem for SCORPIA? Last I'd heard, he still wasn't getting into the politics over there."

"But his Secretary of Defense hasn't been sharing his views, last I heard."

Turmoil in the Middle East would serve to stir up more business for the terrorist group. The American desire to cease the violence wouldn't help their recent financial problems in any way. So by keeping the States out of the equation in Egypt…

Alex stood up, not bothering to thank the assassin. Such things weren't necessary between enemies. "You know, if I mess up their plans, I won't be their only target. A couple guards in front of your cell won't help your cause nearly enough to save your life."

Walker smirked, still not turning his head to meet Alex's eyes. "There aren't any cameras in here for you to fool, at least none that you've left on. You know where I'm going as soon as they transport me to prison."

"Figured I needed to give you fair warning either way," he shrugged before peering up at the sole camera in the room. "Speaking of which, I bet McGee's caught on to my little trick by now. They ask you if I was here and you deny it fully. It might give me a couple minutes lead." Any actions going through NCIS would take time to get accepted, and they would need solid evidence and confessions to prove their case. The one thing he didn't have on hand right now was time, and as such, Alex was going to bypass the authorities.

Glancing over at the assassin, he crossed the room to stand beneath the camera. With a flick of his little finger, the copper piece of metal was unplugged and the feed went completely dead. In another half-second, the blue plastic-coated wire was back in its correct place. Once more, the camera was transmitting live data.

The spy nodded to Walker as he pulled a pair of leather gloves from the same pocket his iPod was in. They were thin, but really warm on the inside. Their real value was in the finger pads. As he swiftly pulled them over his fingers, he touched each digit to his thumb in quick sequence. A low brief buzz announced that the pads were now ready to activate.

Before making his escape, Alex pressed his ear to the door. Footsteps, and two sets of them, resounded in the corridor. Time to go.

He laid his hands flat on the cement walls, and instantly he felt them stick. Tiny hooks had been sewn into the material, and when he turned them on, they held him to most surfaces. Tile and metal didn't seem to react well with the gloves, but he remembered Smithers telling him that everything else worked alright.

Thirteen feet up the wall, he stopped to hover above the camera. The door had opened to let Gibbs and Ziva into the room. "There's no one in here," Ziva reported to the guard, who frowned in disbelief.

"I'm telling you, he showed me his visitor's badge and I let him right in just a couple minutes ago."

"Alex hasn't returned yet," Ziva added as she looked Gibbs in the eye.

The spy hooked his fingers into the vent over their heads, carefully working a paperclip from Tony's desk into the second screw and slowly loosened it enough to slip it out. Glancing down at the two agents he grabbed for a handhold in the shaft and lifted himself in, not bothering to close the grate again. He listened to the voices as he ascended into the ventilation shaft.

The guard was speaking again. "There aren't any other exits."

"For most people," Ziva retorted. "Alex is a spy. He could find many ways to get out."

"Care to point some out?" Gibbs spoke up.

"That vent right above us."

Everyone, including the spy just above them, took a moment to pause.

"That _open_ vent right above us?"

"Yeah…"

Alex rolled his eyes as he turned to find where the vent opened into another room: the bathroom. Perfect, he thought, retrieving the paperclip to quickly unfasten two more screws. These had to be done more quickly, but he didn't mind them tumbling to the floor. From his vantage point, no one was using the men's room at the moment.

Deactivating the gloves as he jumped down to land neatly on the tiled floor, both screws were replaced and the vent tightened to make it appear as if it hadn't just been used. Wasting a couple precious seconds, he took the gloves off, stuffing them back into his pocket, and turned on the faucet. As he let the water splash over his hands and face, he replayed the plan in his mind. The only thing he needed was some cash for the taxi he would need to take.

* * *

Gibbs shook his head as he took the elevator back up to the main floor. Ziva was inspecting the ventilation shaft with the distraught guard, trying to determine how someone could get up there in the first place without a ladder or another person to boost them up. Walker had been less then helpful, saying no one had even entered the room.

Grabbing a coffee from the machine outside conference room three, he returned to his desk, shaking his head sadly as he noticed Alex's absence. McGee perked up. "Boss, Alex left a message for you."

"He did?"

"Yeah. Said he got a call about some problems downtown from his partner and had to run down there. I gave him some money for a taxi. He looked sort of worried."

Tony looked up from his computer. "Trouble with the bomb?"

"Not that I've heard. Call down to the team, just to make sure, and ask about Alex's partner, Daniels."

The agent whipped out his phone, quickly dialing the number for one of the people on site, as Gibbs nodded at McGee. "Search the local news channels and tell me if something important comes up?"

"Such as?"

"I'm not sure yet, but probably something big."

"Boss," Tony spoke up, holding his cell phone next to his ear, "Daniels is on the line. He says Rider called him in to standby, but that was all he ever heard. Everything's OK on his side, and the team should be returning in the next half hour."

"Which brings us back to the question: Where is Alex?"

Ziva stepped out of the elevator. "I couldn't fit in the vents," she told Gibbs. "Alex might've been able to get in, but there was no way anyone else could have. They're just too thin."

"Did Walker tell you anything worth knowing?"

"Nothing that I heard."

"Dinozzo, can Daniels tell us where his partner is?"

Tony spoke quickly into his phone before shaking his head. "Says Rider just told him to be on standby in case anything…happened."

Gibbs shook his head. "Can we track him through the cameras in the building, McGee?"

The agent turned from the news to bring up the most recent camera footage in the building. Going back five minutes, he put up the footage from when Alex left McGee's desk with a five-dollar bill in his hand. Through three separate cameras, they watched Alex leave the building through the main entrance, hailing a cab as he reached the curb. A taxi pulled up, but instead of getting in, the spy tapped on the passenger side window. The driver seemed to be giving him directions with all his gesturing. Alex nodded and walked away from the cab, which pulled back out into traffic.

When he went out of the camera's range, McGee switched to another view. Surprisingly, Alex didn't show up on any of them. "Where'd he go?"

"Right there, probie." Tony pointed to a man in a tan trenchcoat who was carrying a nondescript briefcase. The man raised a hand out, trying to hail a taxi. "See, he's still got the five dollar bill in the same hand as that briefcase, and what businessman goes around in sneakers?"

"Good job, Dinozzo. Now where did that taxi take him?"

"On it-wait. That breaking news you were asking about? Would it involve an accident downtown?"

"What kind of accident?"

"A driver suddenly swerved and hit a sign post, creating problems with the traffic by the Federal Triangle**. By the time a police officer on the scene had gotten to him, he had already died of blood loss. Apparently, he hit his head badly against the window, almost shattering the glass, and then fractured his nose when he hit the steering wheel."

"By the Federal Triangle?" Ziva asked. "That's not even a mile from the White House, Gibbs."

"Who can tell me if anything is happening at the White House today?"

McGee scrolled back over to the news, searching for information on the White House and Tony asked Daniels the same question. Both of them raised their hands at the same time. "Egyptian president is visiting today," they said simultaneously. McGee cleared his throat, interrupting Tony, who glared at him. "Boss, the negotiations over a cease-fire in the country was scheduled to begin in a couple hours. The Egyptian president's private plane just flew into Reagan seven minutes ago."

"Could we get jurisdiction at the car accident?" Ziva asked. "Just in case it wasn't an accident," she added.

"It might be possible, but difficult unless we could tie it, without a doubt, to the SCORPIA investigation." Running a hand through his graying hair, Gibbs sighed. I'm too old for this cloak and dagger stuff***, he thought. "In the meantime, can you get a lock on the number of the taxi that Alex took and tell me where it was when this took place?"

Ziva turned from the screen to frown. "You think he might have something to do with this?"

"I know he does." Despite how much he hated to admit that, it was true.

"Boss, Alex's taxi was sitting idle just outside the Museum of Natural History, two blocks from the accident when it took place."

"All right, and where is it now?"

A map of the area appeared on the screen with a red dot moving steadily down 14th Street, slowing as it reached its destination. "If he's using the same taxi, then he's stopping outside the Crowne Plaza." Minimizing the map, McGee brought up footage from a traffic camera just across the street from the hotel. Despite the blurred image, the sneakers once again gave away his appearance.

"Should we alert someone in the area?" Tony hesitantly asked, unsure whether or not the kid was a security risk.

Gibbs turned from the screen, taking a steadying breath. "No. Keep surveillance on him and see what he's up to. We have no evidence to suggest he's doing anything illegal or that makes him a security risk. Ziva, Dinozzo. Go downtown to the traffic accident and see if you can get a positive identification on him." Tony grabbed the keys, to Ziva's disapproval, and the two took the elevator down.

"McGee, any news in the area?"

"Nothing in the area, but there is something…"

"What?"

"I don't know if it's relevant, but in Franklin Park, a block away, a man collapsed and went into cardiac arrest. A lady walking her dog noticed and called for an ambulance, which just now got there. From the radio calls being sent back to the hospital, it looks like he isn't expected to make it."

Gibbs sat down in his chair. "Where's the taxi now?"

"Just leaving. You think he's connected?"

Before Gibbs could formulate an answer, his phone rang. "What do you have?"

"The local PD hasn't been able to get a clear ID, but we did find a familiar tattoo on his right index finger."

"A silver scorpion?"

"In one, boss. Not only that, but we also determined that the cause of death came _before_ his car hit the post." There was a pause as Tony moved, probably closer to the body. "One of the officers over here discovered a hole in the vic's passenger window not caused by the crash, and a corresponding bullet hole right beneath his right ear."

"A sniper got to him then." He didn't say outloud that the sniper had likely been Alex, but anyone listening to the conversation got the gist of it. "Does anything tell you where he was headed?"

Ziva took the phone from Tony, saying, "His car was headed northwest on Pennsylvania Avenue, based on the trajectory, and he had plenty of guns and ammo to back him up. We're trying to keep that out of the media, but you know how they are."

"Good work. Head over to Franklin Park and see if there's anything there. An ambulance should be leaving for George Washington University Hospital right about now, and I want you to check his fingers if you get the chance."

Tony reclaimed his phone. "We're on it, boss. There is one thing that seems a little…off here."

"And what's that?"

"Uh, I'm just wondering how," he coughed, "the shooter would know exactly where our vic would be."

"Don't worry about that for now. Look in on Franklin Park before any evidence disappears." Gibbs clicked his phone shut as McGee waved a hand to catch his attention.

"There's been a double homicide in front of the Blair House****. There were five witnesses in the area, but none can give any definite details as to what he, or she, looked like."

"And why would that be?"

"Apparently it happened so fast that none of them had even registered it until he, or she, had already fled the scene."

"I don't know if I want to know, but where is Alex's cab right now?"

"It's…going down 17th Street, heading northwest. Boss, I think-" He was interrupted as the elevator released Ben Daniels and Wolf back into NCIS headquarters.

"Did you miss us?" Ben grinned, at which Gibbs cut him off.

"What I'd like to know is what your partner is doing running all over D.C. and killing people, whether they're SCORPIA agents or not," he fumed.

Ben blinked. "Uh, well he does do that sometimes. So is he openly killing these people in public or disguising the murders as natural deaths?"

McGee offered up his own reply. "Actually, he's covered just about everything in the book, if all the murders really are his. Which we've pretty much confirmed," he added.

Wolf shook his head. "I have absolutely no idea what you all are talking about, but if Cub's decided to go out on a shooting rampage, I feel sorry for the poor bastards who get in his way."

The phone, of course, decided to ring at just that moment. Gibbs snatched it from the hook. "Yes?"

"Gibbs! You won't believe what me and Joey found when we went back over the encrypted stuff from Walker!" Abby was exuberant as usual, and just as loud over the phone.

"Joey?"

"Eagle, the SAS guy that helped me with the decoding stuff. But that's not important. Three guesses!"

"Abby," he said in his most patient voice.

"Well okay. We found an extra line of coding in invisible ink, the cheap kind done with lemon juice, that took some time to figure out, you know since it was done in a sorta different code, but we got through it, well most of it anyway, and found that the bomb thing was just a cover for a deeper mission."

Gibbs took a second to register the massive amount of sheer thought crammed into one sentence. "So, what did you find?"

"We found," the sound of a chair rolling as Abby crossed the room echoed in the phone, "some interesting information about an assassination attempt on Secretary of Defense, Robert Janey*. It would seem that his attempts at appeasing the Egyptians is not going over well with those in the terrorist business."

"Great job, Abbs."

"And Joey, er, Eagle. He was the one who figured out the altered code."

"Tell him I said good work."

"Aye, aye sir."

He hung up to turn to Ben. "So Alex might have good reason for his trip, but it doesn't mean I approve of him running off without backup or authorization."

The MI6 agent held up his hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm on your side in this battle. Except he's my superior and he hasn't died yet, so I have no evidence supporting my claims. As for the authorization thing, well, I blame that on MI6. They let him get away with everything under the sun while he was young and it evidently rubbed off on him that he could do that all the time."

"Kids these days," Wolf snorted.

"If you can still call him that," murmured Ben under his breath. "Hey, when did you get in?"

Everyone swiveled to look around themselves, finally seeing the yawning teenager with a too-big grey sweatshirt walking over to stand beside McGee's desk. "Just now. Came in through the fire escape."

"And why did you use the fire escape instead of the elevator, like any sane person would do," Ben calmly asked, in a voice that said this had happened quite a few times before.

"I dunno. Didn't want to run into a bunch of strangers until I had a decent amount of coffee. Speaking of which, where is the vending machine? I haven't eaten since…umm…"

"Oh no you don't." Ben stalked over to drag Alex into the nearest chair. He took a small flashlight from his pocket, shining it in each of the teenager's eyes. "When did you hit your head?"

"How did you know I-?"

"You have a lovely bruise and matching cut right above your ear. Care to answer the question?"

He tried to rub at the laceration before his partner swatted his hand away. "Umm, an hour ago, I think."

"You think?"

"I hit the top of a window when I jumped out and it didn't really pass my mind at the time that-"

"So you've been walking around, with a concussion, for an hour?"

"No, I—what?"

"I'd have to get Snake for a better diagnosis, but based on how dilated your pupils are, the fact you can't stand steady, and the slight slurring of your words, I can bet that you didn't just bump your head a little."

Alex crossed his arms, the act making him look almost juvenile. "So I might've let my guard slip a little and gotten hit over the head with a lead pipe by one of the SCORPIA agents. It wasn't any worse than normal."

"That's not the problem!" Ben threw his hands over his head and resisted the urge to bash his head repeatedly into the nearest wall. "The issue here is that you have no sense of self-preservation!"

Wolf and Gibbs exchanged a glance that said, 'I'm not getting involved.'

"Ben, we've had this talk before."

"And I don't recall having ever finished it."

Alex sighed. Tuning out his partner, he told Gibbs, "SCORPIA shouldn't be a problem here for awhile. With their recently foiled plans, it will be awhile before they can muster up either the funds or the will to do anything on this scale again."

"We appreciate that," he responded wryly, "and I'm sure the director agrees wholeheartedly."

The spy nodded in understanding. Whenever SCORPIA came into the equation, sparks tended to fly. "I should go grab the rest of K-Unit for the flight back over. SAS shouldn't mind getting them back a day early."

"But I might," Wolf grumbled, but turned to look for Eagle and Snake.

"I need to run over to see the FBI director to finalize some of the contract papers, so I won't get to leave until tomorrow morning." Alex yawned again, rubbing his stomach as he heard it complain at his negligence. "Might need to eat something, too."

"So the FBI hires you to essentially shoot terrorists for them?" McGee asked.

"It's…well I guess so. The CIA used to use me as cover for their other agents, but the FBI thought it would be more useful to have me shoot things." He shrugged. "It all depends on who the director is. The nice part is that MI6 makes sure I have some form of insurance, since I _am_ the deputy director, so if I get captured or mortally wounded, they're under obligations to do anything they can to fix the situation and get me out alive."

Ben snorted. "Like that's helped."

"True, but it's the thought that counts." Alex looked at the clock on the wall. "Well we need to get moving. I was supposed to have this wrapped up three days ago and my employers won't exactly latch on to the idea of amnesia too easily. What's a good excuse, Ben?"

"You'd think you were trying to fool a teacher into accepting late work."

"It isn't that different."

Ben rolled his eyes. "You would do that. It wouldn't hurt to tell the truth, you know."

"Not when they'd believe something else more easily. Oh well. I'll have to work a story out on the ride over. Thanks for the fun time, Gibbs. Your team is much easier to work with than most I've dealt with."

"We pride ourselves on having brains," Abby cheerfully said as Wolf gathered up the remaining members of his team from the elevator. "Unlike those FBI suits, you have to have more than a suitable glare and dark glasses to get accepted."

Alex managed to get out, "Glad to hear," before the forensic specialist encased him in a bone-crushing hug. "We're going to miss you so much, so make sure to call or something so we don't have to worry a whole bunch, even though we'll probably worry either way, but you'll call us right?"

"Uh, yes?"

"Abbs, don't crush him." The teenager sent a grateful look his way as Abby managed to not hug him to death.

Ziva and Tony, called back by Gibbs got out of the elevator just as Wolf moved to press the 'down' button. "Boss, we weren't able to catch up with the ambulance, but-" Tony stopped as he saw the crew from England stepping into the elevator. "I take it that the case has been wrapped up?"

"As wrapped up as it can be," his boss said, not completely answering the implied question.

"Hey," Ziva grabbed Alex's arm as he moved towards the rest of his team. He flinched, but met her eyes. "You never told me how you knew my name when we first met."

He thought back, but nodded as he remembered the incident. "You two have similar eyes, your father and you."

She frowned, but released her grip. "How do you know my father?"

"Eli David and I have met quite a few times, and not always on the same side. I recall seeing you once with him which was why I remembered your name."

"That doesn't explain much," Ziva complained, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"I can't tell you any more than I already have." He got into the elevator, and raised a hand in farewell as the doors closed between them.

* * *

A/N: I'm so so so so so so sorry about taking so long between updates. I could give you these long complicated reasons as to why I've been gone, but basically, I didn't really have the spirit in me to write for awhile. Then, over break, I opened up this file and finished the entire six-thousand words within two days. Yay.

So with the explanations over, I have to say that I wasn't sure how this was going to end when I started this story. Actually, I didn't even understand the story until I started writing. Everything came to me as I typed. Anyone who finds the ending sort of disappointing is expressing the same feelings as me. Somehow, I felt there wasn't anything left and I am terrible at endings. So…yeah. Hope you liked it, because I had fun writing this. Thanks for following! And sorry for the gigantanormous amount of asterisks...

* Yes, this is a brief reference to NCIS: Los Angeles. While they aren't a quarter of what the original series has become, I believe in the very _very_ deepest part of my soul that they have the potential to do well. So, this is me, supporting them. Sort of.

** EOD stands for "Explosive Ordnance Disposal" and obviously refers to people who dismantle bombs. Some of the bravest guys out there are in this small, but incredibly important and constantly working, unit of the military.

*** If one whole day counts as sitting around. ***rolls eyes***

****** **From the Jason Bourne movies/books written by Robert Ludlum. If you haven't watched the movies, shame on you.

* Everything that's current day, like the stuff with Egypt-US negotiations, is completely made up. It's sorta real, because there really is a crisis in Egypt with the president versus his people, but all this treaty and negotiations stuff is all in my imagination…I hope…

** The Federal Triangle is basically ten government buildings in a small triangular area, all of which are part of a national historic site. The original seven were built as a huge project undertaken in the early and mid 1930s. Of the ten, the most well-known are the National Archives, the two EPA buildings, the Department of Justice, and the Old Post Office Pavilion. Despite housing government offices, it is a beautiful space for biking.

*** Refers to an old spy movie named _Cloak and Dagger_ and the term is sometimes used to refer to the things going on behind the curtains that might not be completely legal, per say.

**** The Blair House has been used as a guest house for guests of the President, primarily foreign heads of state, since it was bought by the government in 1942. It is also larger than the White House with over 70,000 square feet and 119 rooms.

* Once again, not a real person.


End file.
